#like hey sorry I’ve been busy it’s just that I’m leaving the country so I’m quite busy with that and I was trying to make some plans with yo

[my-wildflwr]

.

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,�� he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[lovelyjj]

Choices

jj maybank x kook!reader

request: Heyyyy I really love your works, I kindly request if you can please write a tumblr story of how JJ maybank likes both kook reader (Sarah’s cousin she introduced to the group and treasure hunt) and Kiara at the same time and he has to choose between the two and ends up choosing reader and Kiara moves on soon too

wc: 4.7k

a/n: I kinda changed the plot a little bit where Kiara and Sarah already worked out their differences. sorry this took forever!!

JJ watched her. He was captivated by her beauty. He watched as her long dark curls bounced as she walked. He admired her tan skin. He watched as she waited tables and rung up customers.

JJ was at the wreck while Kiara worked. He didn’t mind as he was mesmerized. Kiara didn’t seem to mind her visitor.

“Hey what are you doing here?” Kiara questioned.

“Just came to visit you,” JJ smiled.

“I’m working JJ.”

“I know I won’t bother you, promise.”

Kiara didn’t believe him when he said this however she still smiled and nodded back at him.

JJ stayed at the wreck for another hour before he decided to go home. When he got home he couldn’t stop thinking about Kiara. He thought about her smile and her laugh and her personality.

He loved hanging out with her even if it was to watch her work. JJ was confused as to how he can like someone so much.

——————

You never been to this so called Midsummers. Sarah has been raving about it to you for so long you grew tired of hearing about it. You and Sarah were currently getting ready for the party.

“Do you want me to do your eyeliner?” Sarah asked.

“Yes please,” you responded.

Sarah sat down in the seat in front of you and got busy.

“So are you excited for Midsummers?” you asked Sarah.

“Yeah I guess so, I’m just a little bummed because I don’t think John B will be there.”

“And John B is the guy your leaving Topper for?”

“Correct. Now hold still and close your eye.” Sarah demanded.

After a little while the both of you were ready for Midsummers. You were wearing a baby blue silk dress that matched Sarah’s white dress perfectly.

You arrived at the country club right on time and you were a bundle of nerves. You never been to Midsummers before and you were nervous because you didn’t know what it would be like.

Of course Sarah told you everything about it but still it didn’t ease your nerves. When you stepped out of the car you were met with a ton of people all dressed very nicely.

After Ward made his entrance and after a while of socializing you and Sarah made it to the dance floor.

Sarah was hiding behind her friend and sneaking some champagne.

You were on the dance floor living it up. When a mysterious blonde boy came up behind Sarah.

“JJ?” she questioned.

“yep” He spoke

“What?”

“I got a, uh, note from Vlad.” “Shh.”

“From Vlad?” Sarah confirmed.

“Yeah” JJ replied.

“Okay.”

��Read the note.” JJ said walking backwards.

Sarah read the note and ran off. You were confused by the whole interaction by brushed it off. You continued dancing.

After a while Sarah came back to find you.

“Hey listen we gotta go to Rixon’s Cove,” Sarah exclaimed.

“What why?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” she smirked.

Sarah grabbed your hand and led you away from the party and towards Rixon’s Cove. When you arrived you were met with a group of people.

They all turned towards you and you gave them all a smile.

“Hi guys, This is my cousin y/n,” Sarah announced.

“Hi, nice to meet you all,” you spoke.

“You can trust her,” Sarah put forth.

“Hi y/n, I’m John B.”

“I’ve herd a lot about you,” you giggled as Sarah’s cheeks warmed.

“Hi I’m Kiara,” she got up and shook your hand. You smiled at her.

“I’m Pope,” Pope said.

You turned your gaze to the only person who hasn’t introduced themselves.

JJ was frozen in place. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There you were in your shiny silky blue dress looking like a goddess. JJ didn’t believe in love at first sight until now.

“JJ,” Pope coughed.

“What oh right sorry, I’m JJ, JJ Maybank, pleasure to meet you.”

You thought JJ was cute and you wondered if he had a girlfriend, probably you thought.

“Now that we are all acquainted. I have some news,” John B announced.

“You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” Kiara responded.

“So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant,” John B continued.

“Oh, my god. Here we go again with this.” Pope voiced.

“No. All right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” JJ spoke.

“It’s been here the whole time. It’s on the island.” John B added.

“Are you serious?” Kiara questioned.

“Oh my god.” Kiara exclaimed.

“I’d like to voice my skepticism.” Pope said.

“I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?” John B asked.

“Proceed.” Pope responded.

“All right. So, in my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny.” John B went on.

“Who the hell’s that?” Kiara asked.

“Denmark Tanny was a slave that survived the Royal Merchant wreck. Check this out,” John B explained.

“What?” Kiara voiced.

John B handed her the letter. “Here you go.”

“Okay, slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but my dad, he found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery. So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom.” John B discussed.

Kiara whistled and gave Pope the letter.

“After that, he bought his farm.” John B continued.

“Drumroll, please, because that farm is… Tannyhill Plantation.”

“Tannyhill?” Kiara questioned.

“Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him.”

“So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

“Where?” Kiara whispered.

“Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water. Except… there’s no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out. The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.” John B shared.

“Holy shit,” Pope exclaimed.

“All we need is an original survey map of the property, and we’ve found the gold.” John B cheered.

“Which I can get,” Sarah added.

“Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.” Pope acknowledged.

“Dude it’s like King Tut,” Kiara suggested.

“I am a genius,” John B announced.

JJ got up and walked over to John B and embraced him.

“Hey, whoa! Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.” John B stated.

“I’m so proud of you right now.” JJ commented.

“Thank you. That’s really sweet of you,” John B expressed.

“Okay, so, guys. What’s the plan?” Pope asked.

“Good question,” John B stated.

“Well I can bring the map soon it should only take a second,” Sarah spoke.

“How much in gold are we talking?” you asked.

“400 million.” The pogues said together.

“Woah,” you stated shocked.

“Alright we can meet up later and get the map and go from there,” John B suggested.

After the meeting at Rixon’s Cove you all went home and thought about what was said. When you finally got home you couldn’t stop thinking about JJ. It’s like you were drawn to him.

There has been a few meetings about the gold and you were grateful to be apart of it and apart of the group. You felt like you finally found a group of friends.

Today you were going surfing to celebrate finding the gold. There was also gonna be a party at the boneyard but that was tomorrow.

Once you got to the beach you felt like you should mention you don’t know how to surf.

You voiced your concern about not knowing how to surf and JJ jumped up.

“I could teach you,” JJ exclaimed.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah of course.”

While the other pogues went to hit the water you and JJ stayed on the sand. JJ wanted to get to know you and he thought the perfect opportunity to do that was teaching you how to surf.

“Alright before we hit the water we must practice on the sand. First i’m gonna teach you about paddling.” JJ went on.

JJ proceeded to show you how to paddle. Then JJ showed you how to stand on the board and maintain your balance.

“We will get you in the water another day,” JJ started.

“Ok sounds good.”

You and JJ sat in the sand watching the others surf. JJ was so proud of you for learning so fast. Now was his chance to learn about you.

“So what do you like to do if you don’t surf?” JJ asked.

“Well I like to read and ride my bike.”

“Really? Ya know i have a dirt bike. I could take you on it sometime.” JJ hoped his invitation wasn’t too forward.

“Yeah that sound fun,” you exclaimed.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” JJ asked next.

You paused for an moment to think then you smiled and JJ just about died at the sight.

“I mean yeah, I think everyone has a person made for them and someone who completely understands you and loves you unconditionally is important to have.”

“I agree I believe there’s an intense connection where both people feel deeply drawn together as if the affair was somehow destined to be.”

JJ’s eyes were sparkling and you felt mesmerized.

“What’s your love language?” You asked.

“Hmm probably physical touch, which is funny,” JJ replied.

“Yeah mine too. Why is it funny?”

“I just didn’t expect it to be physical touch.”

“What's the best gift you've ever received, and why?” JJ asked.

“Umm probably concert tickets because it was Lana Del Rey and I love her a lot.”

“Really that’s so cool. Personally I love concerts.” JJ exclaimed.

“Yeah there the best,” you stated.

“What kind of music do you like?” JJ questioned.

“Um I listen to pop, indie pop, modern rock, indie folk and Hollywood.” you explained.

“That’s some good stuff right there,” JJ commented.

“Will I see you at the boneyard party tomorrow?” JJ asked.

“Yes you will,” you smiled.

After everyone was done surfing you all went to John Bs house. Everyone decided to just relax and watch movies.

—————

The boneyard parties are always fun. You had no idea because you’ve never been to one. Being a kook you never really branched out. Now you had a group of your friends that would be there.

You arrived with Sarah in a white sundress with yellow flowers on it. You were excited and nervous at the same time. The beach was buzzing with people. You were entranced by the energy of the people.

JJ was situated on a branch talking to Kiara.

“I haven’t seen you talk to any tourons lately,” Kiara stated.

“Yeah I’m growing tired of them. Their all the same,” JJ replied.

“JJ Maybank is passing up on sleeping with tourons, unheard of!” Kiara gasped in surprise.

Little did Kiara know that he liked her and didn’t see a point in filling his life with meaningless sex when all he really wanted was her.

Then JJ spotted you across the way and his whole face lit up. You looked hot. You were in a group of people with Sarah laughing at something someone said.

JJ wasn’t sure if he should approach you but he desperately wanted to hear your laugh.

You were mingling when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and were surprised to see JJ.

“You’re here!”

“I am,” you responded.

“Have you had something to drink,” JJ noticing your empty hands.

“No I haven’t.”

“Come on, let’s get you something to take the edge off.” JJ insisted.

JJ guided you to where the keg was. He poured you a drink and handed it to you. Then he proceeded to pour one for himself.

“You look nice,” JJ smiled.

You took a sip of your beer trying to hide your blush.

“Thank you,” you answered shyly.

“Do you want to go down to the water?” You asked JJ.

“Yeah sure,” JJ called.

The two of you made your way to the waves and you stuck your feet in the water. JJ was wearing boots so he just stepped near the water.

“Ya know I’ve always loved the water. I used to come down to the beach with Sarah. First we would watch for dolphins. Then we’d play in the waves til sunset. It was always so magical and fun we wouldn’t even care walking back wet.”

“That sounds perfect.” JJ commented.

“It was,” you smiled.

All of a sudden you got an idea. When the next wave came bringing in water that went up to your knees, you scooped up some water and flicked it towards JJ.

JJ scoffed but then he began to laugh and he said, “oh it’s on.”

JJ then proceeded to splash you and you splashed him back. This caused you to erupt in a fit of giggles.

JJ finally got to hear your laugh and it was music to his ears.

Soon the both of you were soaked and you were both smiling. Then horror struck you as you realized you were wearing white.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked and your hands flew up to cover your chest.

JJ tried to get the image out of his head he really tried but your dress stuck to you like glue and he could see the outline of your nipples pass your light blue bra.

He thought about what it be like to suck on them and he instantly felt ashamed.

You were panicking. But it could’ve been worse you could’ve not been wearing shorts underneath your dress. Thank god you did.

JJ quickly took off his shirt and gave it to you. “Here.”

You looked relieved and JJ smiled.

You took it from him and pulled the wet garment over your head. “Thanks.”

“Come on I know somewhere we can dry off,” JJ extended his hand out for you to take.

This gesture didn’t go unnoticed by you but you didn’t question it. You laced your fingers with JJ’s and made your way to the château.

“First I need another drink,” you stated.

“We’ve got beer at John B’s.” JJ whispered.

“Ok.”

Once you arrived at the château, JJ led you through the hall into his room. He took out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt along with a towel to dry off.

“Thank you JJ.”

After you changed in the bathroom JJ was already ready dressed in sweats and no shirt.

“You look good in my clothes,” JJ smirked.

You blushed and hoped it wasn’t noticed by JJ.

“You really think so?” you questioned.

“Yep,” JJ remarked.

You opened your arms signaling you wanted to give JJ a hug. JJ was surprised but he would certainly not pass up a hug from you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and JJ circled his arms around the small of your back. JJ smelled your coconut shampoo and he declared it his new favorite smell.

You pulled away way to soon for JJ’s liking but he obliged none the less.

“Now you wanted another drink right?” JJ asked.

“Yeah.”

He walked over to the kitchen pulled open the fridge and took out a can of beer. Then he handed it to you. He also took one for himself.

“So do you want to watch a movie?” JJ asked.

“Sure.”

With a movie on the TV and the two of you sharing a blanket you both sipped your beers and watched the film.

After the movie was over you guys stayed up til 3am talking about anything and everything. When Sarah walked into the château she was surprised to see you cuddled up with JJ on the pull out couch.

You were facing JJ and he was facing you. You were tucked under his chin and his arms were around you.

Sarah decided not to disturb the two of you but she will definitely bring it up later.

The next day you were over at Sarah’s house.

“So what the hell is going on with you and JJ?” Sarah asked.

“What do you mean, nothing is happening between us.” you replied confused.

“Well I saw the two of you cuddling at John Bs. It was kinda cute.”

“Oh that.” you flushed. “We just fell asleep really late and it sorta just happened unconsciously.”

“Yeah right,” Sarah laughed.

“I’m being serious nothing is happening,” you frowned.

“But you want something to happen,” Sarah smirked.

“What? No I don’t, What makes you think that?”

“Well I think you like him because you hang out a lot,” Sarah reasoned.

“So.”

“So, jump his bones already.”

“Sarah!”

“What, come on I think you guys would be good together.” Sarah threw up her hands and tossed them back down.

“Well it’s not happening,” you crossed your arms.

——————

You guys lost the gold. Everyone was pissed beyond belief. Loosing the gold to ward impacted everyone. Everyone seemed to be down in the dumps. A few months later the fuss seemed to have died down.

In those few months you and JJ got closer. Your relationship blossomed.

Everyone was out on the boat except you. You were busy and missed out on the boat day.

The pogues were gliding through the water, wind in their hair. Sarah was sitting next to JJ when she noticed JJ staring longingly at Kiara.

When they arrived back at the château, Sarah pulled JJ aside.

“Listen I see the way you look at her.” Sarah spoke.

“Look at who,” JJ questioned.

“Kiara. It’s the same way you look at y/n.” Sarah responded.

“What are you implying.”

“Look all I’m saying is you need to choose between them or I will tell them everything.” Sarah’s words cutting like knives.

JJ was conflicted. He didn’t know what to do. He for sure didn’t want Sarah to tell you and Kiara everything. He liked both of you and he didn’t know how he was going to choose.

——————

The pogues were all outside the château chilling and drinking when you walked up to the action.

JJ immediately turned around and saw you. He was at a loss for words, you looked stunning and he felt something in his chest.

“Hey guys,” you started.

“Hi y/n!” John B responded.

Sarah gave you a wave and Kiara gave you a smile. Pope handed you a drink which you gladly accepted.

You sat down next to JJ and his heart fluttered. JJ seemed to always feel some type of way around you. These past months his feelings really grew stronger. He couldn’t help the floaty feeling he felt just by being in your presence.

“We were just talking about the fight at the bonfire.” John B announced.

“Oh yeah that was wild. I can’t believe that happened,” you stated.

“Really I thought it was pretty predictable.” Kiara reasoned.

Everyone laughed and continued to tell stories. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. You however thought JJ was unusually quiet.

Truth is JJ was at war with himself. He didn’t take what Sarah said lightly. He knew she would tell them everything if he didn’t make up his mind.

JJ laid awake at night wondering what to do. He just hoped he would come up with a solution soon.

—————

JJ didn’t know what he did to piss off his dad so badly. It must of been something really bad because his dad was fuming.

“You are a worthless piece of shit!” Luke shouted.

JJ tried to run away but Luke tackled him to the ground. Luke got on top of him and started to choke him. JJ tried to choke Luke back.

JJ used his knee to knee Luke in the side. JJ got up but Luke used his hand to grab a hold of his foot and tripped him. Luke started kicking JJ in the stomach and then pulled him up by his hair. There he held him against the wall and punched the living daylights out of him.

JJ and Luke burst through the screen door and JJ came out on top. He started beating up his dad and finally he said, “I ain’t scared of you anymore.”

—————

JJ was embarrassed. He didn’t want to be seen by any of his friends. He was all bruised up and he was hurting all over.

He slowly but surely made his way to the château, wincing with every step he took. Then he saw you laying in the hammock and he was scared of what you might think.

“Jayj,” you called.

He walked over to you and when he reached your spot you gasped. He was littered in bruises and it reminded you of Midsummers where his face was all beat up.

“What happened?” you asked very concerned.

JJ was hesitant with opening up to you. Not that he didn’t trust you he was just scared to be vulnerable. He also didn’t want your pity.

“Um it’s my dad,” JJ smiled weakly.

“JJ.” your voice broke.

In a haste you reached out and pulled JJ in a bone crushing hug. JJ winced causing you to pull back and apologize for hurting him.

“That son of a bitch, i’ll kill him.” You expressed angrily.

“No y/n don’t worry about it. This is not your battle.”

“Yes it is JJ. When it comes to you I’m always gonna fight for you.” you reasoned.

“I don’t deserve it or you.” JJ muttered.

“No what you don’t deserve is getting beaten by your own father.” You said sadly.

“I told you not to worry about it.” JJ responded.

“Well news flash JJ, I care about you a lot, and seeing you hurt breaks my heart.” Your voice wavering.

“Don’t be sad baby, I can’t stand to see you so sad.”

You cracked a small smile, and looked into his crystal blue eyes. You took ahold of his hand running your thumb over his knuckles.

Looking in to your eyes JJ realized something. He realized that it’s always been you. He thought back to Midsummers when he saw you for the first time in your dress. How you looked stunning and he fell in love right then and there.

He thought about all the times the two of you were together. All the lingering touches, the long nights filled with deep talks, all the fun you had together. He thought about how you cared about him and his well-being. He didn’t care that you were a kook at all.

JJ thought about all the times you were there for him. The times when you fell asleep cuddling. How you made him feel. You made his heart race and his palms sweat. You made him feel alive.

It was a no brainer he was picking you.

“I hate seeing you all bruised up, makes me wanna cry.” You responded.

“I’m ok, promise.”

“Come here,” JJ continued and outstretched his hand for you to take.

You gladly accepted his hand and he led you into the château. JJ made his way to his designated room and closed the door.

As soon as the door shut JJ slid his arms around your waist and engulfed you in a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you buried your face in his shoulder.

After your hug of just holding each other, JJ placed his hand on your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” JJ asked.

“Yes.”

JJ didn’t hesitate, he quickly placed his lips on yours. The kiss was tender and JJ felt sparks, like little mini fireworks were going off in his body. Soon the kiss got heated. You were excited to be kissing JJ. Your lips were capturing each other in a fiery kiss.

Your stomach started to get tingly and JJ felt blood rush through his veins. JJ was still cupping your cheek. Your hands were tangling in JJ’s hair.

JJ moved his hands to go under your shirt and you let out a small moan. JJ warm hands sent shockwaves through your skin. You went to take off you shirt, lifting the garment over your head. JJ eyed you in your bra for a moment than went back to kissing you.

You were stunning and your tits were spilling over your bra and JJ was practically drooling.

“I want this off,” you tugged on JJ’s shirt.

JJ lifted his shirt over his head and you gasped. His stomach was littered in bruises and you wished you never saw it.

Tears filled your eyes as you clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t cry angel, please don’t cry,” JJ begged.

“I’m sorry it’s just I can’t stand to see you hurt or in pain. It makes me so sad and then I get this rage because you deserve so much more than what you were given,” you shared.

“I’m ok, I have you,” JJ smiled.

“JJ…”

“What? It’s fine,” JJ muttered.

“Get on the bed please,” you ordered.

JJ did what he was told and got on the bed. You moved to get on top of him. You were straddling his legs when you decided to kiss each one of his bruises on his stomach and ribs.

JJ let out a shaky breath as you kissed him. When you were done you looked up into his eyes and gave him a smile.

JJ flipped you over so that he was on top of you now.

“Let me make love to you please baby,” JJ requested.

“Ok J.”

So, JJ made you feel amazing and you had the best sex you ever had.

—————

You were on a mission. You were very upset and you needed to find JJ and sort this out. You marched up the steps of the château and found JJ on the couch.

“We need to talk, now.” You demanded.

“Ok let’s go to my room,” JJ replied.

Once you were in the privacy of JJ’s room you let it rip.

“I can’t believe you. How could I be so stupid,” you started.

“What are you talking about?” JJ asked.

“I’m talking about you liking me and Kiara at the same time!” you shouted.

“Oh that,” JJ cringed.

“Yeah that,” you raised your eyebrows at him.

“But I chose you!” JJ exclaimed.

Tears formed in your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

“That doesn’t change the fact you liked her while we were hanging out together.”

“I mean I was falling in love with you and you were thinking about some other girl,” you continued.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry but I want to be with you,” JJ apologized.

“i’ll never forgive you if you break my heart.”

“I won’t.”

“If we’re together and you suddenly decide you want to be with Kiara, I don’t know if I can handle that,” you reasoned.

“I promise I won’t leave you. You’re just gonna have to trust me”

“Jayj.”

“I’m serious y/n, I’m committed to you and I love you,” JJ choked out.

“I love you too,” you smiled weakly.

So, you decided to trust JJ and it was the best decision you ever made. He treated you right he loved you unconditionally and he made you happy.

Your heart did break when you found out from Sarah that JJ liked you and Kiara at the same time but he did choose you in the end. So you forgave him and never looked back.

————

Kiara has been waiting for JJ to make a move for a while now. She thought he would’ve asked her out by now.

When she found out from Sarah that you and JJ were together she was shocked. But she didn’t let that get her down. She dusted herself off and decided she should start dating.

Her and Pope have grown rather close and she wondered if Pope would ever go for her. She wanted to try her luck because nothing with JJ will ever happen.

She knew JJ liked her all this time and she waited for him but he never acted on his feelings. So Kiara decided to move on.

You and JJ loved each other a lot and throughout your relationship you both discovered new sides to yourself. A little while after you and JJ got together, Pope and Kiara got together. Everyone was happy.

[catwrites9]

Ain’t no love in Oklahoma

Kate Martin x reader SMUT

Twisters x Kate Martin crossover

Warnings: smut, praise, fingering(k!receiving), oral(k! receiving), strap on, riding(r! receiving), cussing???,injury, almost death??, use of y/n, cringy cowboy talk, not proof read, blood?, I think that’s it

W/N: I took so long to finish this I’m sorry but I’ve just been busy with a trip and doing preseason for basketball, which I haven’t talked about but I try and write all the time but with school and playing basketball at a d1 school which yes I’m a d1 athlete but I will never say what school I’m at but who knows you might watch my school???????

Masterlist

—————————————————————————

It’s the time you dreaded the most. Tornado season. Both your mom and dad are tornado wranglers so that means they made you be one. The worst part is you have to move in with a family you don’t know just to chase a few tornados. The travel there wasn’t that bad, it was just a whole car ride of side country roads just to get to an old farm real estate. Once you got there you were treated by a couple and an older boy and girl. They all introduced themself to you guys but something felt off. You felt like you were being watched. You look to the left and see another woman around your age, blond, and the most beautiful woman you’ve seen. You smile at her and she just ignores you and goes back to digging a hole. Her mom sees where you're looking and introduces Kate. She just looks up and smiles at your mom and dad. She looks at you for a bit and clenches her jaw. She goes back to work and you just furrow your brows in confusion. Both family’s head in but Kate’s mom takes you to the side.

“Normally Kate doesn't like any new people but it seems she took some type of liking to you. Won't you be a doll and just try being friends with her, I feel like she only stays on the property and talks to us. I’m a bit worried” Her mom is nice to you, do you decide to try and befriend her.

Kate is outside sharpening a tool so you decide to go talk to her, maybe get to know her.

“Hey Kate I’m y/n” you hold out you hand and she doesn't even look at you. “So I heard that your like a you stay at home and just tend to your sheep” still no comment “anyways your mom was just telling me about how she wants us to be friends because you never leave the property anymore and have no friends” no comment but she looked annoyed at your comment “so I just wanted to get to know you I mean your family knows mine” no comment “ I feel like I would feel like so lonely if I was only on my property.” She doesn't care about what your saying

“I mean Don’t you want to find love or something” you were just trying to get some reaction out of her, you don’t know why but you just want her attention.

“Ain’t no love in Oklahoma” she finally talks, she’s a has a bit of a southern acent.

“Really, I thought a fine girl like you would have already been married to a cowboy” maybe confidence will make her break?

“I’m not into cowboys” she never made eye contact when you talked to her, you hate it. You grab your heart and faked being offended. “Their all just cocky, their all the same and they always wear that stupid hat everywhere”

“So you're telling me I’m cocky and unoriginal. And what did my hat do”

“Yes your cocky but your not a cow Boy” she enfisseced the last part.

“What are you trying to say darling” she stops what she’s doing, stands up and gets chest to chest with you.

“Don’t darling me, did they not teach you anything in cowboy school huh?…..” she pauses, her presence in front of you gets rid of your confidence. But you regain it. Her mocking tone annoys you. But why does it feel good to have her look at you for once during the conversation.

“They taught me a whole lot more than you, why don't you just spit it out and stop dancing around it” she looks at you annoyed.

“I like cowgirls you bimbo” her crossed arms flexed to emphasize her point.

“Oh… you could have just said that instead of dancing around it like a chicken with its head cut off”

“The chicken would be still and not dancing” her voice now very monotone.

“Did they not teach you sarcasm in southern school huh?” she just grunts at you and goes back to sharpening her tool. You leave her be and just go back to your parents. This is going to be a long month.

No matter what you did she never seemed to like you, but the times you didn’t look at her she was always watching you. She watched for you to mess up just so she could show she’s better. It’s became a rivalry you didn’t want. But she was always near you, it almost felt like she wanted your attention as much as she wanted yours. That’s why she is there wrangling tornados with you and your parents. She’d always make fun of you for random things like your lasso you kept with you during a chase just in case but she never saw why, she questioned everything and loved to push your buttons. Due to her not being experienced with this scene you felt a sense of protectiveness that made you always put her over you. But that’s where you are now in the middle of a f 3 tornado heading right for you.

You guys had to go one by one to run from structure to structure. Your parents went first and then Kate made you go. The ground was wet making it easy to fall, the rain blinding you from seeing in front of you. This almost felt like being stuck in the middle of a hurricane. Once you got to your parents you hugged them and waited for Kate. But that never came. You all yelled at her to come over but she was scared. She froze. Her structure would not hold together once the tornado hit. She needed to move now with how fast the tornado was going. She wasn’t going to move and it hit you that you needed to help her. You can’t just let her stay frozen. The fear of death hits you but you still know what to do. The whistling became almost deafening. You took off running, you heard your parents scream in terror but you couldn’t let that stop you. You somehow didn’t slip and made it to her. She was crying and scared. She was shaking and holding herself in her arms.

“Kate we have to go”

“No I can’t y/n I can’t”

“Yes you can and you will”

“No no I can’t save yourself I’m a liability please”

“I’m not leaving you behind Kate” you grab her and start pulling her to the next building.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just so sorry for everything I’ve acted like an ass to you just for you to save me”

“It’s ok Kate really” you felt the wind, it wasn’t good. All the gear on you weighed you down a bit. You weren’t gonna make it. You could feel yourself being pulled.

“Kate no matter what happens you run and get to my parents and don’t look back, ok Kate”

“What do you mean, y/n what’s happening” she stops in her tacks, you can’t have this you so close you keep pulling her.

“ On the count of 3 you’ll run and don’t look back, I’ll be right behind you” your voice cracks at the end. Kate sees your face.

“Your not gonna behind me are you”

“Please Kate do it now, run, NOW.” She runs as fast as she can without tripping.

The wind takes you a bit, you fall to the floor and get taken by the muddy slope. You landed in a ditch and found the nearest sewer drain. You found one and connected yourself to the pole outside with your lasso. The whole time in the tornado blurred and blacked out. You woke up to Kate right next to you pulling a metal sheet off of you. Your head pounded as you tried to recall what happened. Your body hurt and your face stinged. You had random cuts on you but the main was one on your face that stinged from Kate’s touch. You finch back. Her eyes filled with guilt. You got checked up by a medic and was able to go home the same day. You escaped with just some cuts and bruises. When you got home the house felt weird. The house felt like weary and sorrow. You hat rested on a table with a candle and a picture of you. They all thought you were gone. Kate became distant that whole day. Your parents and her family left to go to dinner but you didn’t feel like going out. You just stayed in your room replaying what happened. You kept wanting to think about what happened to you but all you could think of is the what ifs about Kate. You headed to her room, opened the door, and she wasn’t there. You walked in trying to find her.

“Why did you do it” you jump at her voice behind you.

“Why wouldn’t I”

“Because you could have died. Y/n come on you had us all greivinv you thinking you died”

“So it’s my fault I saved you”

“I’m not, I just, why would you risk your life for someone that’s done nothing but be a pain in your ass”

“Because I could Kate”

“That’s not a reason and I think we both know that’s not the reason”

“I JUST SAVED YOU ALRIGHT ITS THE ONLY THING I COULD THINK OF, THAT WHOLE TIME I WAS JUST WORRIED ABOUT YOU”

“WHY”

“BECAUSE KATE YOU'RE… new to this you can’t hold yourself like I did” your secrets can’t come out she can’t find out that you care about her so much because of you liking her.

“Why did your confidence break, what are you hiding?” She’s catching on.

“Nothing Kate I’m just scared for you”

“Why are you scared for me” her confusion and guilt mixed on her face.

“I just want to protect you”

“BUT WHY Y/N”

“BECAUSE KATE I LIKE YOU, I LIKE YOU SO MUCH I CAN'T SEE A WORLD WHERE I COULD EVER SEE YOU GETTING HURT JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT DRAGGED INTO SOMETHING IM DOING. AND NO MATTER HOW RUDE YOU WERE TO ME I ONLY WANTED YOUR ATTENTION, I just want you, so bad Kate” she was wide eyed and stuck in thought.

Your mind raced as you knew you ruined everything. In a split second she crashed her mouth onto yours and kissed you. The kiss became bore and more heated. She took your hat and started wearing it. You lead her to the bed until the back of her knees hit the surface. She sat down and pulled you on her lap. Her hands explored you, searching for your weak spots. She swipes her tongue on your bottom lip as you grant her access. Both your tongues fight for dominance and explore each other's mouths. She tugs at your shirt and you break apart to quickly take it off and then go back to kissing. Your body instinctively starts grinding in her lap. Kate chuckles a bit. She rests her arms on your waist as she helps you.

She moves back to catch her breath“You know what they say save a horse ride a cowboy” her smug smirk taunting you. Tilting your hat she’s wearing at you.

“Your not a cowboy” once you say that something switches in her. She’s faking being a cowboy the one thing she hates…. But the thought of ridding her takes over your brain.

“I know I’m not but you wouldn’t care either way because all you want to do is ride my cock don’t you. If you climb the saddle” she points down at her lap”be ready to ride. So you’re gonna take my cock aren't you” you nod at her words feeling your arousal grow.

“Are you ready? Are you ready to ride me like a good girl?”She's close to your face, ready to pounce.

“Yes Kate please”

She moves you off her and looks under her bed. She finds it and unboxes it. She tries to take off her clothes but you stop her. “Wait, please let me” you slowly take off her top half and tease her. You kiss down her neck to the waistline of her pants. You get on your knees and take off her pants. You begin to tease her by kissing and grabbing her thighs. You take off her underwear and continue, slowly making your way up. You begin to blow on her clit. Her head throws back in pleasure. Her soft moans of your name stuck forever in your head. You kiss her clit. She moans and grabs your head. You stand up, leaving her shocked.

“You're gonna have to work for it Kate” she’s annoyed, and aroused, but she knows you're gonna pay.

She puts it on and pushes you back onto the bed. She proceeds to leave trails of hot open mouthed kisses on your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give her more access. She finds your sensitive spot and bites down. Leaving you whining. You go to cover your mouth.

“Don’t you fucking dare cover your mouth, I wanna hear all your noises baby” she goes back to licking and sucking the spot. Everytime she bites she gets a whimper from you. She even starts to groan a bit at your noises. She trails down leaving marks everywhere she kisses

She leads her hand down to your cunt. She brings one of her fingers to drag across it, she collects some of your wetness and puts her finger in her mouth. She moans at the taste.

“Fuck baby, so wet for me, I want you to ride me is that alright.” She sits right next to you as you straddle her lap. She helps you with lining up the strap with your hole. Slowly pushing yourself down. Stopping from time to time to let you adjust. You slowly grind your hips, hands resting on Kate’s shoulders, while both of you are moaning. Her hand on your hips helping you ride her. Her strap hitting perfectly on your g spot.

“It’s just like riding a horse ain’t it baby, aren't you so good at that, you're so good at this” your break eye contact from her praise. She grabs your face and makes you look at her the whole time. “Such a good girl” she is now focused on your neck and collarbone, leaving more marks. She periodically thrusts her hips up leaving you moaning her name.

“You sound so pretty moaning in my ear, fuck, I wanna hear you scream my name baby. Don’t hold back” she brings her hand down to your clit.

“Oh yeah you like that’s, like it when I fill you up so good.” The knot in your stomach forming and threatening to snap.

“Am I making you feel good y/n” you nodded “words”

“YES KATE”

“Well then look at me and tell me how good I'm making you feel and beg for more” she stilled your hips making you whine. “You can take it baby, can’t you”

“Please Kate please”

“Beg for it”

“Please Kate fuck me I need you to fuck me”

She leans into your ear “How bad”

“So fucking bad I need you, I’ll do anything”

“Good girl” she proceeds to pound into you at a harsh pace. Your hands are gripping her back leaving red streaks. One hand on your clit and the other on your hip massaging it. She catches you in the middle of moaning to make out with you.

The room filled with moans, groans, and the noise of her cock pounding inside you. The knot in your stomach is about to burst. She pulls back and watches your face. You both hold eye contact and watch each other's faces contort in pleasure.

“Cum with me baby” she put her head into your neck as the knot snaps. You both moan eachothers names. She slowly loses speed in her hips as both of you come down from your high. Your hands are scratching her shoulder as she’s sucking more marks on yours. Both of you panting as her hips finally still. You get off her lap and stand in between her legs, you push her shoulders down so that she’s laying down. Her legs spread more for you. You take the strap off of her and get on your knees.

Her pussy soaking from her prior orgasim. You lick a strip of cunt making her wither underneath you as you push your face away after. Her hand tries pushing you closer.

“Ride my face Kate” she gets up fast and gets into position. One of her hands rests on your head and the other rests on the wall in front of her. Your hat is still on her head. She grinds on your face as your hands rests on her thighs keeding at them. Your lips suck at her clit. Her orgasim coming fast beacuse of her prior one. You move your dominant hand down and stick two fingers into her.

“Y/N OH FUCK YES” your finger find her g spot immediately and curl to hit it with every thrust. Her hips lose their rhythm as she searches for her release.

“Cum for me pretty girl” her face contorted in pleasure. Her head rests on the wall as she rides out her high. Her eyes blown out in bliss, unable to see her blue eyes anymore.

She gets off your face and lays back on her pillows. Your hat finally slides off as you go up to cuddle her.

“What are we gonna tell them about all the marks” she says as her hands trace all of them on your neck.

“That’s a problem tomorrow, for now we should probably shower” you get up and help her up.

The next day you both hid it from your parents and kept it as your little secret. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to come to Oklahoma for the tornado season. You both clearly found love in Oklahoma that you never expected. But just maybe this won’t be the last time your here with Kate.

—————————————————————————

W/N: I feel like the riding face part was not that good anyways it’s 1 am I have to practice to wish me luck igs.

[wannabeschyulersister]

so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

[yallthemwitches]

October Country

“Lily, I love you.”

Her eyes go wide. She starts to jerk around in his grasp, a panic setting in.

“Sirius, what are you doing—”

“No, Merlin, that came out wrong—sorry, let me try again— I love you because you have made James finally shut up.”

Written for @jilytoberfest Day 2, Prompt: A: “If anyone does X I’m going to love them forever.” B: Does X.

Rated T

Read Below or on AO3!

“Moony, it’s still October right?”

“I’m not a calendar, mate—but yes.”

“Like October—Quidditch season October?”

“Did it really take you seven years to put that timeline together?”

Sirius turns his head to either side of the room. He is sitting at the same desk as every year, Peter and Remus flanking him like always. Nothing has moved out of place since third, besides that the boys have grown taller with four years passed, hair a bit more wild looking.

“Then why the fuck is it so quiet?”

His answer sits just behind him. Sirius leans his chair back to investigate. Evans has had the same seat for years. In earlier times, she cursed the days she would have to share such close proximity to them, but now as she scribbles notes lightly on to her parchment, she looks like the paragon of happiness. James busies himself with tucking his face into the crook of her neck. Her hair barely shrouds his lips pressing firmly to her pulse point then traveling up behind her ear. A smile curls at her lips and every so often a small squeak bubbles forth, causing James to reappear from the veil of auburn to press his nose against her cheek and say something low under his breath. Her face, perpetually flushed these days, swats at him but with no clear attempt to deter. 

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius isn’t making an attempt to be subtle. His best mate emerges once more from his girlfriend's neck and flashes his mate a smile that looks drunken and dazed—a look he has been sporting more and more since he and Lily became official a week prior. 

“Isn’t it quidditch season?” 

“Christ Pads, you’d think seven years with me would make you catch on to things like that.”

A muggle swear, another new and interesting development. Lily seems pleased to hear it, halting her notes to poke a finger into James’ cheek, taunting him in a soft, teasing voice. James turns and makes a playful bite at her retreating hand, eliciting another shriek that was fast becoming a new staple in Lily’s vocal repertoire. 

Sirius ignores them. 

“---You just haven’t been talking about it so much.”

“Really? Haven’t noticed, I’m sure I’ve been—” but James takes a reflective silence, then shrugs. 

“Guess I’ve been thinking about other things.”

Out in the corridor, James wastes no time pinning Lily to the stone wall right outside the classroom. The boys hover from afar for a moment, sizing up whether this round would be a quick snog, or one that they would have to abandon their mate for until he resurfaced. 

“Hey Evans—I need a word!”

Peter and Remus might be too timid or modest to ever try to interact with the couple when they were in such a state, but Sirius had an incredible passion for intercepting people’s private time. 

“---’m busy Black.” Lily attempts to make eye contact, but James’ hands are already weaving back through her hair, pulling her face back up to his. 

“Prongs, unhand your girlfriend, I have business to discuss.”

James’ head snaps back to cock an eyebrow. 

“What kind of business do you have with her that doesn’t include me?”

Sirius shrugs. “Well I was hoping to get a full performance report on your snogging capabilities, but I think I’ve already compiled enough unsolicited evidence on my own.”

Lily laughs, using it as leverage to wiggle her way out from under James’ grasp, inciting him to make a disappointed whine and stare pointedly at his mate.

“Fuck Prongs, don’t look at me like that—it was a joke. I’ll return your precious girlfriend to you in a sec, I just need to have a few words.”

He leads Lily out into the side courtyard, leaving James to stare into their retreating backs.

“I still haven’t sorted out if it’s cute or alarming how doting he can be,” Lily says lightly, more to herself than to anyone. 

“Your words.” Sirius snorts.

Once far enough out of earshot, Sirius whips around, startling Lily enough to jump. He places his hands on Lily’s shoulders, lowering his head to look straight into her eyes. He can tell she is uncomfortable but doesn’t pull back.

“Lily, I love you.”

Her eyes go wide. She starts to jerk around in his grasp, a panic setting in.

“Sirius, what are you doing—”

“No, Merlin, that came out wrong—sorry, let me try again— I love you because you have made James finally shut up.”

She stops her struggle. Her eyes search his face, mouth sloped into a frown. Sirius just returns it with a warm grin. 

“You’re mental Black, right fucked in the head, you know that right?”

Sirius snaps his head back in a laugh.

“What else is new.”

“You care to elaborate?”

“It’s quidditch season,” his tone imbues an obviousness that is not there.

“---why is this feeling like I’m back in ancient runes?” 

Sirius huffs, dropping his hands. Lily folds her arms against her chest with her eyebrows disappearing past her fringe. 

“Work with me, Evans. Quidditch season. Quidditch Season. Every year your stupid bloke of a boyfriend spends this time of year never shutting up about the damn sport. The stats, team performance, new strategies… ”

“Of course he does, he’s the captain. So what?”

“That’s my point! Now that he’s too busy snogging you, he doesn’t have time to talk about it.”

Lily blinks, eyes narrowing.

“So you are telling me you love me because I’m a…a distraction.”

Sirius frowns slightly in a moment of thought. “Yeah, reckon I am.”

“Goodbye Black.”

Lily turns on her heels, heading back towards an idle James who had spent the whole interaction pretending not to be spying behind one of the stone arches. 

“All I’m saying is—you can do whatever you want to him as long as you keep it up until the season passes.”

 His scream echoes far enough to turn the heads of lingering students. Even from afar, he can see James’ brow furrow, clearly confused and annoyed. Lily just turns back, her laugh chases the remaining echo of his words. 

“Will do. Thanks for the permission.”

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eleven: i am always running back to you | read chapter ten

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: SO SORRY.... it was the horrors (midterms). hope this chapter makes up for it because boy it is a lot of fun

The rest of the evening passes slowly.

It does nothing for your nerves, truthfully, but you keep yourself preoccupied with Wade. He crawls now and that leaves him wanting to explore every space possible. So, while Wally runs out for dinner and Linda wraps up a meeting with her editor, you watch over him and make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.

Dinner is deep-dish pizza—directly from Chicago. It’s all very indulgent, the way Wally can do things like that; he spoils you in that regard and you tell him as much as you wash dishes and he puts them away.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says, shooting you a small smile. “Besides, it’s for me, too.”

And you can tell that’s true by the four empty boxes of pizza that he ate, with two for you and Linda. 

But still. When he leaves…

It’s not just that that you’re going to miss. With or without the speed, you’re going to miss him. Him, Linda, and little Wade.

Despite not saying that—because you don’t want to be a downer, because their home is in Keystone City, not here, and you don’t want to be selfish like that—he senses the shift in your mood.

“You know,” he starts, “me and Lin were thinking…”

“That’s never good.”

He nudges you gently, grinning. You shake your head, smiling, too. You pass him a freshly-washed plate and he dries it. 

“Well, wait until you hear what we were thinking about.”

“What?”

“We think you should visit us every now and then.”

The thought that they want you around is warming, as usual. But…

“I mean, I would love to, Wally, but I can’t really afford that… Maybe, after I see how everything adds up during the fall, I can come for the holidays or something. But…”

He shakes his head. “Come on, kiddo. You think we’d say that and leave it up to you?”

“I don’t expect—”

“I know. But you should. We want to do whatever we can to see you. You aren’t the only one that’s going to miss something when we leave, you know. That’s why we’re doing this. Besides,” he grins at you, lightening up. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I can get you to Keystone in under a minute right now.”

Considering that Linda has told you that his speed is efficient but leaves one with a horrible bout of nausea and vertigo—at least in the beginning; she’s barely affected these days—you feel some mild apprehension.

But those things are temporary. You can withstand that, if only to see them again.

“Or,” he goes on, “we can fly you out, but that would honestly be pretty cumbersome and would also take too long.”

“It’s a plane, Wally. That is the fastest form of transportation we have in this country.”

He sniffs. “I’m the fastest form of transportation we have in this country. In the world! One of them, anyway.”

“Well, that’s how we normal human beings function. Not everyone can run faster than the speed of light.” 

“Not everyone should,” he agrees. “I’d lose my appeal. That would suck.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So, is that a yes or—?”

“Alright,” you relent, smiling. “How often are we talking?”

He smiles a tad bashfully. “Once or twice a month? You can come on the weekends… Just—you know. I know you’re gonna be busy with classes but…”

“It sounds like I should be getting a nice break every month if we do that. I mean, I can’t promise I won’t have work—”

“Just as long as you’re around, kid. That’s all we want.”

Your face warms at the earnestness in his words, embarrassed, though you know you really shouldn’t be. “Wally.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been in this game too long to try and dance around feelings. Hopefully your boy will learn that, too.”

“You aren’t wrong,” you mutter, shutting off the water and drying your hands, making a mental reminder to put on some lotion before they get annoyingly dry from the hot water and dish soap. “I’m just not… used to that.”

He shrugs, tossing his dish towel over his shoulder. “Like I said. In a world like ours… it’s important.”

You don’t disagree. But you can’t rail too hard on Tim. Questionable decisions regarding his feelings aside, the both of you only came to your senses after he had a close-call today. What does that say about you, that he has to nearly die for you to realize you need to see him again? Need to clear the air? 

It’s human, you think. So very terribly human of you.

It’s not like you’re unappreciative of him in your life but… you know this dance and song. You only realize what you have when you lose it. Look at your parents. You’ve slipped right now but you’ll fix it. You’ll make sure he knows how much he means to you.

But more importantly, right now…

“You guys… mean a lot to me, too.” You turn, seeing Linda pause near the island, and meet her brown eyes and even though it makes your face hot and the words get stuck in your throat, you force them out, underpinned with what you hope they can tell is sincerity. “You do. So much.”

Your throat tightens and you duck your head as your eyes burn. 

Hard to quantify. Hard to put a label on what they mean to you.

But you know that much. That they mean the world to you. 

Warm, strong arms come around you, squeezing you tight. You sniffle when you feel Linda come up behind you, squeezing you, too.

It’s an emotional day, you decide. For all of you. 

So, you take a long shower to try and pull yourself together, then head to bed, bidding Wally and Linda goodnight.

You don’t intend to fall asleep when you crawl into your bed. It’s better to stay up, to wait for Tim to get here. But the day’s events start weighing down on you as you curl up beneath the blankets.

You try valiantly to stay awake by scrolling on your phone but it’s a Sisyphean task to do so. As your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you know it will be a task that you fail as you stop fighting and give in to sleep.

It’s only the vibration of your phone that rouses you. 

Groping for it, the display is obscenely bright in the darkness of your room. But the text waiting for you is unmistakable, impossible to miss.

i’m here

Suddenly recalling what you and Tim had agreed upon, you shoot up in bed, ignoring the head rush the action gives you. 

The window that leads out to the fire escape is right next to your bed, covered by curtains. You toss your phone aside, rolling out of the warm cocoon of blankets; the AC in this place works well, a little too well, you think groggily as your bare feet connect with cold wood floors. 

You shove aside the curtains and though you know who is waiting for you, that it is Tim, just Tim, your best friend, the still-not-fully-awake part of you clenches up in fear, thinking it might be Batman that is moving in the shadows, only barely illuminated by the full moon. But you know better than that.

It helps that your eyes are already adjusted to the darkness, recognizing the figure crouched in your fire escape. Dressed in… oddly enough, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. Completed with a plain black domino mask—not the usual one he wears, more akin to Robin, save for the color—that obscures the blue eyes you know and love.

You reach for the window. Well-oiled and taken care of by the owners, it is virtually silent as it slides open. 

Muggy July heat rushes in, chasing away the cold.

Without the window and with your vision quickly clearing from bleariness, you can really take him in. The tension in his body, the way a breeze ruffles through dark hair, the twitch of his hands to you before they clench into fists. Waiting. 

For you. 

Your throat thickens painfully when your eyes snag on the white gauze taped to the left side of his neck. 

Just a graze, Steph told you. But he lost a bit of blood anyway and his neck… if it had been the right side, would he not be here right now? Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s his neck, there are so many important arteries running through there. 

If anything else had happened, if he’d moved even a little bit, he wouldn’t be here.

That realization, coupled with the overwhelming emotions at seeing him again since everything, pushes you over the edge.

Your eyes burn with tears. You reach forward, ignoring the soreness in your belly, one hand grabbing his wrist and tugging him right into the circle of your arms. 

That breaks the stalemate. He goes quickly, arms sliding around you as the first of your tears start sliding down your cheeks.

“Tim…”

He holds you tighter, impossibly warm, letting out a shuddery breath and whispering your name, too, everything inside you shivering at the sound, at the warmth that wraps up the syllables of your name. 

“I’m okay,” he breathes. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“You were shot.”

An exhale of a laugh. It sounds shaky with emotion.

“Technically, I was grazed.”

“Tim.”

He presses his nose to your hair, hand stroking up your back.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead. “I wasn’t going to die before I got to see you. No way.”

You sniffle. The two of you are quiet, speaking lowly, but you’re suddenly too aware of the other window on the fire escape, the one for Linda and Wally’s room. You don’t want to wake them—or god forbid, Wade—so you reluctantly extract yourself from his arms, tugging him again.

He follows easily, sliding through the window with a grace you aren’t used to. He shuts the window silently behind him, banishing the muggy air that had leaked inside. You wipe away your tears, attempting to piece yourself together. 

As he turns back to you, hesitantly now, the air conditioner clicks on, and a second later, cold air starts blowing into your room. It should help cover your voices a little bit.

For a moment, it is silent. 

Tim shifts on his feet across from you. The domino mask renders him impervious. Impossible to read without seeing his eyes.

But not totally impossible. The way he bites his lip doesn’t just draw your attention to his mouth, tempting, traitorous thoughts briefly crossing your mind, but it also clues you into his nervous state. 

“I’m sorry.”

He speaks first, blurting the words out, seeming almost surprised at the way they escaped him before he decides to go with it, doubling down on it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at you, whispering your name. “I’m sorry. For lying to you. For coming to you as Red Robin instead of myself. For everything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know.”

You were in that position, too. You didn’t fuck it up this badly but… you each had your parts to play. No one is blameless here.

“I just,” he stops, looking away, hands clenching at his sides. “I want to be friends. If anything else. I want that.”

If anything else.

You understand what he is saying here.

He isn’t here under any pretenses. Isn’t expecting you to take him in with open arms. Would be fine as friends.

Well, you don’t want that.

“Tim.” 

He looks at you. You extend a hand. Waiting. Not demanding.

Slowly, he comes to you. Palm sliding against yours. Warm and a little clammy, calloused but still soft. 

A few inches of space separate you when he stops. 

This close, you can feel the heat of him. Smell his shampoo, soft and fragrant. Eucalyptus. 

You squeeze his hand once then let go. 

He and Red Robin are two sides of the same coin. There is no Tim Drake without Red Robin, you think. Not right now. 

Maybe it’ll change, down the line. One part of you selfishly hopes so.

You’ll always want him. But as Red Robin, the risk of losing him triples and you are greedy enough to want to mitigate it. The same with Steph. Even with Wally, who is considerably more durable. All of them, duty-bound, honor-bound. You cannot ask that of them. 

Right now, though, you think you can make that demand. At least temporarily.

You reach for him. Pausing when your hands near his face. But he doesn’t move. Just looks down at you and you wonder if he can hear your heart, with how hard, how loudly, it pounds in your chest.

You have to be certain.

So, when your fingers finally touch the smooth material of the mask, before trying to lift it, you ask, in a whisper, “Can I?”

“Yes,” he breathes, some emotion you don’t know underlying his voice, one that makes your face warm and your heart skip a beat.

Your fingers find the edge, slowly, gently peeling it up. It peels and peels and peels until finally, it detaches into your hands. Almost flimsy now but with a certain weight. 

That’s not what retains your attention, though.

It’s him. It’s always him.

Tim’s eyes are closed, the tiniest of wrinkles found between his brows.

You imagine what it must be like to him. Letting you do that. Peel back the final layer of him once and for all. Letting you see him. Tim. Your Tim.

Keeping the domino mask loosely grasped in one hand, your other reaches for him, your thumb finding the wrinkle between his brows. It smooths out instantly at your touch and his eyes flutter open.

There they are.

It’s a shade of blue that haunts your dreams most nights.

Usually a lighter, softer color in the light, something like cornflowers, but right now, they’re midnight sky blue, looking at you with a heavy kind of affection, warm and unbridled. 

Your hand settles on his cheek. He leans into the touch. Your thumb strokes over the sensitive skin under his eye. Where dark circles mar the skin, exhaustion finally clear in his face.

You smile sadly. “You look tired, Timmy.”

“Last couple weeks,” he swallows, “have been… rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiles. It’s a small thing but no less beautiful to your eyes. 

Then he sobers up, gazing at you, pained. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I was an idiot.”

“I know.” You take a deep breath. “We both were.”

He opens his mouth to protest but you speak before he can. 

“It’s true. You know that. We didn’t handle this like we should but it’s… it’s in the past. We can’t change it. We just have to move forward.”

A slow nod, then his eyes flicker to your hand, still between you two, still holding onto the domino mask. He takes it from you. 

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not for him to toss it away, landing somewhere in the darkness, a near silent sound. 

“Tim—“

“It’ll never come between us again,” he whispers and your breath catches at his words; his hands find yours, pulling the one on his cheek into his own, squeezing. “I promise.”

You take a second to compose yourself, letting out a slow breath.

“I believe you,” you finally say. “And… no more lies. Please. Tell me the truth. The whole truth. I want to be there for you, for all of it.”

“It’s going to hurt.” 

Not a protest. Just a statement. A warning. 

“So, it’s even more important for me to be there.”

He swallows, eyes searching yours. “Are you… are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So… we’re okay?”

“No.”

His face falls. “Whatever it is… I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he promises. 

“Not like that.”

He stiffens up, breath catching as he understands what you mean. He looks down at you, shock clear. Understanding but not truly believing. That won’t do.

“I love you, Tim. Not just as a friend but…”

You’ve said it to them both. I love you. And this ‘I love you’ isn’t better than the one you tell Steph, than the one you told him for the first time, back when your feelings were still strictly platonic. It doesn’t mean something more, something deeper, something elevated just because it’s romantic. But it’s different. In what you want. In what you long for. 

He whispers your name. 

You let out a slow breath. “And if you want that, too, then…”

“Of course I do,” he breathes, letting go of your hands to cup your face, bringing you closer. “Of course I do. There’s nothing else, no one else, I want. I just… I never wanted to assume.”

“I know.”

“But if you’re on board then… then we can try it out.”

It feels more like ‘trying it out,’ though. Despite the uncertainty, the whirlwind of emotions, everything that has happened, finally talking it out, finally laying everything out on the table… you’ve found solid ground. A foundation you can build upon. 

It is no mere crush. No simple infatuation.

You are in love with Tim Drake. Plain and simple.

And he is in love with you, too.

You close your eyes, fingers curling around his wrists. After a beat, he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispers. “I have for a long time.”

Your face is hot, flushed with heat, your heart pounding. You feel so light, like you might fall up, untethered by gravity and floaty from the cotton candy-sweet warmth unspooling in your chest, clogging your veins and the arteries of your heart. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. 

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He kisses you.

Gently at first, tenderly, lips warm, soft, tasting faintly of spearmint. You feel like you might melt into a puddle of goo at it, at knowing it’s Tim who is kissing you so sweetly, making your knees feel a little weak.

You shuffle closer. He inhales sharply at you pressing into his space, curling around you to close the final bits of distance. It turns the kiss a little fevered, a little hungry, a little desperate.

You’ve missed him so much. You can’t stop yourself from whispering that, pulling away to do so.

He shudders at your words, lips pressing to your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, and you open yourself up to him, too willing, too happy to let him have you like this.

He keeps saying it. Whatever you want. But he can have whatever he wants from you, too. Anything. Everything.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck and your breath catches at the reverence in his voice. “Can you—can you say it again?”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper and it pulls another shiver from him, lips pressing to your fluttering pulse and your knees really feel like they might give out. 

Your fingers grasp the material of his jacket, tugging, and he brings his lips back to yours, giving you a mind-numbing, synapse-slowing kiss. 

You separate eventually, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath.

“Will you stay?” you ask softly.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, leaning back to press a heartachingly tender kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, holding onto him.

After a moment, he pulls away, shedding his jacket, draping it over the footboard. You close the curtains over your window, then crawl into bed. When Tim comes over, he tries to push you over. Not hard. A gentle—persistent—nudge to your shoulder, keeping in mind your injury, though you should tell him that it’s healing much better at nearly three weeks since it happened. Enough so that Steph said she could see about Crystal coming over to take the stitches out, just to avoid waiting at the hospital, and the bill, too. 

“Oh, hey—”

“Let me sleep there,” he urges. “I feel better if you’re furthest from the window.”

“Hero types, I swear.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans down and scoops you into his arms. You yelp and he shushes you. You can’t stop your giggles as he unceremoniously drops you on the other side of the bed, the one closest to the door. He crawls in after you.

“You’re going to wake them up,” he whispers but he’s grinning, too, as he slides under the covers, laying on his side.

“Who’s fault is that?” you shoot back. “Just ‘cause you and your savior complex need to be by the window—”

He muffles his snickers into the pillow, eyes closed, lips spread in a grin. Your chest warms and you wiggle closer to him. 

Tim lifts an arm so you can settle against his side. Wary of the gauze on the hollow of his throat, you settle for tucking your head underneath his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He strokes a hand down your back, a warm brand between your shoulder blades. Sleep isn’t far off your conscience, right at the edges of it, and with the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his embrace, you’re moving fast to it.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll… you’ll be here in the morning, right?”

His arm tightens around you. You feel him press a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

And he is. 

When you rouse an indeterminate amount of time later, awakened by the sounds of activity outside your door—Wade’s high-pitched giggles, Wally’s low murmurs to him as he feeds him breakfast, the water running in the pipes as Linda uses the bathroom—Tim is still there. With you.

Deep in sleep, still, even with the slivers of light that come in from your window and the noises coming in from outside. Probably the repercussions of his ‘rough couple weeks.’ It’s quite similar with you, if you’re being honest. Besides, you hardly mind, basking in the feel of your legs tangled together underneath the blankets, the heavy but reassuring weight of his arm around you.

You manage to pull away a little bit to look at him, blinking out the bleariness in your eyes as you rest your head on the pillow, his face a couple inches from yours. Eyes shut, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, breathing soft and slow. His hair is a mess, some parts of it flat from the pillow and sticking up in other areas. You spy a few creases from the pillow on his cheek, too. But even with that, he is still so beautiful to you.

You sigh, snuggling closer to him, shifting so you can run your fingers through his hair, your eyes falling shut again. You can stand to sleep a little while longer.

He lets out a soft, contented sigh as your fingers glide through his hair, gently taking out tangles as you go. 

You pull away after a moment, feeling sleep lapping at your senses again. 

You doze for a little while, rousing again to more noise from outside. The sound of the TV. Wally and Linda murmuring to each other. Wade giggling. 

Tim shifts, groaning quietly. The sound, rough with sleep, makes something inside you clench, sparks of heat waking you up more fully so you can watch him wake up, too.

He rolls onto his back, stretching, then sagging into the mattress. You stay curled up on your side, your calf thrown over his, watching him wake up with a small smile on your lips that you know must be horribly lovesick.

Finally, he turns to look at you, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi.”

He gives you a sleepy smile. “Hi. Watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

He still has pillow creases on his face. You reach up to trace them.

“Well, you like this weirdo.”

“I love this weirdo,” he corrects. “Guess it’s fair, considering my night job.”

“Right. Watching you sleep—which I wasn’t, by the way, I was just waiting for you to wake up—”

“Sounds an awful lot like watching me sleep—”

You grin and pinch his cheek. He grunts, halfheartedly batting your hand away and taking it in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Anyway. That’s not that big of an offense compared to, oh, I don’t know, dressing up and fighting crime each night.”

“Think that’s part of the whole ‘we love each other thing,’” he teases.

You smile. “I guess so.”

“So, then…” His eyes stray from your face, to something else, nerves clear as day; too early in the morning for him to make a solid attempt at hiding them from you and well. You know him. For better and for worse.

“Mmhm?”

“I guess I should take you on a date.”

“You guess?”

He blushes, red settling high in his cheeks in a way that is… decidedly tempting. “I mean I should. If—if you want to, of course.”

“I didn’t kiss you just for kicks, you know.”

“I sure hope not,” he agrees, looking back at you, face softening. “Will you, then?”

“Of course, Timmy.”

“And maybe…” He turns, reaching for you. You go easily, your fingers still tracing the pillow creases on his cheek. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders as he turns onto his side. In the warm light of the morning, his eyes are a softer shade of blue, the one you know and love. 

“Maybe…?”

“Maybe… you’ll give me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Oh, geez.

Your face flares with heat, heart skipping a beat.

“You cornball.”

“You love it.”

Your palm finally settles on his cheek—hot to the touch, too, flush still lingering behind. You lean forward to press your lips to his forehead. He lets out a shuddery breath, arm tightening around you briefly.

“Yes, Tim,” you murmur against his skin. “I would be happy to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t like he’s thanking you for agreeing to it—at least, not just that. 

Maybe for everything. 

But— “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not… I love you. That’s all there is and that’s all there ever will be.”

You pull back, thumb stroking over his cheek. He leans forward, lips pressing gently to your cheek. Your fingers find their way into his hair, sighing contentedly as he kisses down to your jaw. 

You get so caught up in that, the knock on your door scares the shit out of you both.

Wally calls out your name. “You up, kiddo? Lin’s makin’ eggs and rice.”

Tim pulls away quickly and you sit up, your face hot.

“I’ll, um, be out in a few.” Your voice is steady, thankfully, but you can’t say much about your pulse, your heart beating out of your chest. Tim is sitting up, too, looking around the room—presumably for the mask he discarded last night. 

“Okay,” Wally says. “Will Tim be joining us?”

You both freeze. 

You should’ve known better, really. Wally’s been doing this for a long time. Nothing much will slip by him. Not unless he lets it. 

Tim turns an impressive shade of red. Tempting, like it always is, but mostly, you just feel like a teenager caught red-handed with her boyfriend.

…Which isn’t too incorrect of a description.

You look at him, lost. 

He clears his throat, raising his voice to respond. “I—uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine,” Wally responds cheerfully. “Hope you aren’t allergic to sesame because I don’t care and I’m not going out to get something different for you.”

“Wally!”

Tim smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not allergic.”

“Too bad,” he says. “It’ll be ready in a few.”

Footsteps leave. Wally hums to himself loudly, happily. 

You and Tim look at each other for a second before a giggle escapes you. Then another. He joins you in the next second, until you two are laughing loudly, listing into each other and flopping onto the bed.

In the kitchen, even from here, you can hear Wally and Linda laughing, too.

You grin breathlessly, looking at Tim’s smiling face, and decide the embarrassment of getting caught out is worth it, if you get to have this. All of them. 

reblogs are appreciated!

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[rizzstappen]

College Au, I agree that you def should write it 👀👀

Ahh okay I’ve been tinkering with this for a bit! Thank you for this ask Danni!!

This is my first time writing for Maxiel and first time writing rpf in years so please be easy on me 😭 but of course feedback and any questions are welcome!! Inspired by this picture and the tags!!

Sorry for any mistakes! But I don’t think I can look or edit this anymore without going insane 🤪 enjoy!!!

Maxiel College AU where it’s a special day during junior year!

—

“C’mon one more DR!” Blake shouted from across the tennis court. The Austin sun beating down on them making the already humid day feel worse than it actually was.

“Yeah, nah mate,” Daniel called back as the three men walked toward the net where they had set their backpacks down to get in a quick tennis match. “Max is waiting for me. I promised I’d be back on time. He says it’s a special day.”

Daniel had been thinking all day about it.

Before leaving for class Max had whispered to Daniel something about a special day. In his sleepy haze all the Aussie could do was hum and try to pull his boyfriend back into the warm duvet covers away from the busy campus outside their window.

Every morning was a routine once the semester began. Max woke at 7 am for his 8 am lecture. Showered. Got dressed. Kissed Daniel before he headed out the door. Daniel, of course, didn’t have class until 1:30. He liked sleeping in and staying up late. Plus he worked at the local bar which meant late night shifts. Max didn’t mind it. They always made sure to leave the afternoons free around dinner time so they could catch up on the day before Max went to play FIFA or do homework and Daniel went to work.

“He said that? You don’t know what the special day is?” Scotty asked with a slight scoff knowing if he forgot a date Chloe would have his head.

Daniel rolled his eyes sliding his backpack onto his shoulders and hiding his sweaty curls under a black and green hat “no he didn’t say what it was. If I ask he might kill me so I’m off to get some flowers on my way home” he nodded hopping the day would reveal itself when he walked in the door.

After saying bye to Blake and Scotty, Daniel headed out to the local flower shop. It was small with a French exchange student behind the counter who flirted way too much with Max in his opinion. The green eyed student recommended a bouquet of roses. Cliche.

Instead Daniel opted for an assortment of red, yellow and white tulips. Like the ones Max spoke about from his home country. Daniel liked to get flowers often wanting to give Max a little piece of home since he couldn’t travel back to Holland often.

The jingle of his key alerted the cats of Daniel’s return to the small apartment. Once inside the cats curled around his ankles and purred against his leg welcoming him back. Daniel leaned down scratching both Jimmy and Sassy behind their ears with whispered ‘hey guys, where’s dad?’ He toed off his shoes by the door before walking towards the living room. Max wasn’t in his usual spot on the worn leather couch Daniel had practically begged Max to bring back after they found it on the side of the road last year.

“Hello?” He called out the crinkle of the cellophane echoing around the tulips in Daniel’s hand.

“Shit” Max’s quiet voice echoed coming from the kitchen. Daniel made his way over seeing Max fussing over…something? His broad shoulders hunched down pulling at the fabric of his black polo that were tucked into his jeans being held up by a black belt.

Max turned holding a tray in his hands with what should’ve been a cake. The white frosting and vanilla bread had clearly turned into a crumbly mess.

“It’s supposed to be a cake, of course, but I think I took the bread out too soon and it was too hot. Of course I just wanted it to be decorated before you got back-“ Max rambled. A grin spread on Daniels lips “a cake for this special day?” He asked trying to real more information out of his boyfriend about this mystery day.

Max raised an eyebrow and nodded “of course why wouldn’t there be a cake?” He says.

Cake. Birthday? No. Anniversary? No. Daniel still couldn’t wrack his brain about what this special day might be.

Max smirked at his boyfriend as he sets the tray down on the linoleum lined kitchen counter “you have no idea what today is huh?”

Shit. He was caught. Max could read him like a book but Daniel wouldn’t admit it of course. “What?! Of course I know what today is. I got you flowers. Tulips” he grinned handing over the bouquet.

Max inspects the flowers. Not as good as the ones from his hometown but he knew it was the thought that counted. Max looked his boyfriend in the eyes a grin on his lips as he speaks “then what is today?”

Daniel looks back for a moment. What other possible date would be important enough for a cake?

A laugh bubbles up from Max “you don’t even know!” he smirked happily moving to get a vase filled with water for his flowers. “Daniel it’s the day we met in class” he spoke over the water running into the green vase “three years ago, of course” he nodded shutting the water off and sliding the flowers into the water before setting them down “it’s called a meet cute. I think” he said before he gestured to the cake sat on the counter “that’s what Victoria called it. She said it would be cute to celebrate it.”

The words ‘happy 3 year meet cute’ scrawled out in red icing against the white frosting in Max’s handwriting

Daniel was stunned.

3 years. He couldn’t believe 3 years had flown by. He remembered walking into his Horticulture 120 lecture and the only spot left was next to Max at the front row. He was sure he’d drop the class. It was an elective after all. But then he turned and saw Max’s eyes. Blue. Like the Maldives. In that moment Daniel knew he had to stay. So he did and clumsily introduced himself. His braces giving him a slight lisp. But it was the best thing he had done. Now he had an apartment and two cats with that same boy. And they were celebrating meeting 3 year later.

Daniel gives his boyfriend a soft look before his own laughter filled the space between them “oh Maxy” he said “that’s adorable really. Thank you” he says admiring the icing work he had attempted winning his finger into the white frosting and licking it off his finger.

“Happy three year meet cute anniversary” he said leaning in kissing Max’s blushing cheeks.

Max smiled turning to look at his boyfriend “happy three year meet cute anniversary” he whispered before planting a kiss on Daniel lips.

[ragnarlothcat]

Longish, sort of personal and spoilery post about my fic knows best (daddy kink fic) below!

So I posted a long overdue update to my daddy kink fic a couple days ago and the people commenting have been kind and funny and encouraging (I love this community so much) but it’s gotten me thinking about family dynamics and I want to defend (or at least muse about) my idiots (i.e. Obi-Wan and Anakin) a little bit. Even though they are a) imaginary and therefore not in need of my defence and b) acting completely ridiculous, by my design.

If I can speak personally for a second (sorry) and probably too revealingly: my family isn’t very close. There’s no particular bad blood or anything but my friends often insist that they must talk to their parents at least once a week or they regularly hang out with their siblings outside of family functions. Meanwhile my family will all cheerfully leave the country without informing the others and we’ll only find out when someone posts a picture or mentions a hereto unheard-of trip to Belize or something.

I remember when I was fifteen or so my dad invited another family over for dinner and at several points the teenage eldest son put his little sister on his lap and tickled her. I approached my dad after they left and basically asked him if we were just witness to some sort of sex crime. He got very huffy and said that what we saw was perfectly normal and that I shouldn’t judge other families for how they show affection. Which, fair, but also his family was the only one I’d ever really known—the values he’d instilled in me and the behaviour he’d modelled were my only baseline.

To be clear: I am not complaining about the comments I’ve been getting even a little bit. I’ve been loving them all and agreeing with them because it’s true, Obi-Wan and Anakin are doing an absolutely terrible job of pretending to be father and son. I know this! I wrote them like that on purpose because it’s (hopefully) funny and hot!

I guess I’m just feeling introspective because if I were in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s shoes (raised in an environment where I was exposed to no families), or indeed the shoes of any of the criminal bystanders, I’m not positive I could recognize the intricacies of the other family relationships. I could easily see myself as one of the teen criminals going to my mom after watching Obi-Wan hand-feed his adult (supposed) son like “hey what the fuck is wrong with those two?” and being told that it’s none of my business and that all families are different. In this instance my imaginary mother would be wrong because there is a lot wrong with those two but it makes me think, you know?

[priestfrommidnightmass]

new potential love interest reveal for anyone invested in my personal life for some reason. bc some are

okay SO. there’s this other guy i work withhhh of course and i’ve had a bigggg crush on him from the literal first moment i met him because god he’s sooooo fucking cute UGH. (the first time i saw him at the training me and my bestie gave each other a Look and were texting each other under the table like Oh my god did you just fall in love with him too. we have been jokingly fighting over him for MONTHS 😭) however it was like. never that serious it was just a fun thing for my friends and i to joke abt all the time and i haven’t felt the need to talk abt him for a variety of reasons bc 1. i was clearly BUSY with my other situationship hell and 2. me and him literally Never talked. like we talked comically little it was almost a bit that we’d never had a full conversation he would give me his stuff and then leave the second i got there so it wasn’t like we were super close by any means lmfao. and of course 3. he just HAD to have a girlfriend because why wouldn’t he. why WOULDN’T HE. they always do. but me and my friend were like okay soon we have to gauge how serious it is like what’s the deal is it serious is it like a canada girlfriend or what. so i finally brought it up with him this past friday and he talked abt her a bit and showed me pics of them and she was verrryyyy pretty and they’d been together for like two years which whatever that’s fine cool now i know right. NO! that’s not the end.

first of all him and i have already been talking a bit more than usual (maybe a few full conversations at this point!) but even better we were actually teaching together this week which means we’ll get to spend a bunchhhh of time together (also me and situationship are separated which helps too bc. out of sight out of mind) and he was like i’m so excited to finally be able to work closely with you and talk to you and whatever which is fun i was super looking forward to it. but anyway context there had been a wedding at our week on friday and so on monday my other coworker was like God I feel sooo bad for him we keep talking abt the wedding and stuff it’s probably making him feel worse and i was like. hey wdym. wdym. and they were like oh he just went through a really rough breakup and he’s kind of unwell abt it. and listen this person is Not the most reliable source whatsoever so i was hesitant to believe it because he had literally been raving abt her less than three days prior bro like WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!! so i casually bring her up (he’d mentioned that they might’ve been going to an event at our work together in a few weeks and i asked if he was still planning on that) and he was like oh yeah me and girlfriend unfortunately broke up it’s kind of a mess right now. and i was like oh my god i’m so sorry i had no idea i feel bad for bringing it up and he was like no it’s okay it’s fine i should’ve seen it coming. it’s kinda funny i totally switched up the gender roles and *i* was the one begging her for an explanation and to try and stay and fix the relationship and she was the one who ghosted me LOL! (.) BUT THERE’S ONE MORE KEY DETAIL. he’s leaving in LESS THAN A WEEK ACROSS THE COUNTRY because he’s getting his fucking PHD from a nice ass school (i fucking know dude) i always knew this but he’s leaving like much much sooner than expected. but anyway he is like. insanely attractive and charming and smart and it’s like 😭 why are you doing this to me. he’s so tall and he has the nicest hands if anyone i’ve ever seen and he’s sooo sweet to me and he’s always nerding out abt the smart ass shit he’s studying and it’s soooo charming dude you have no idea he’s so fun to talk to and be around. he is insanely out of my league like i think we all have got to be a little in love with him but for some reason the last few days i’ve been deluding myself into thinking there’s any chance something could happen and yknow what? i will absolutely try my luck he’s literally gonna be gone in a week i will totally make a rebound offer bc he keeps asking to hang out soon and shit. the pieces are falling into place let me finally have this universe. LET ME INNN

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey Cas, Leo Anon.

I have successfully blown up my life since the last ask I sent you, so before you read this entire thing and call me a dick, just know… I know. 

It turns out Leo does still have a crush on me. And I still have a crush on him (it’s one of those annoying crushes that hasn’t just gone away after a month. Or a year. Or two).

He told me he still had a crush to explain his reaction and apologised. I then admitted I still have a crush on him.

And that’s where it all went downhill.

Leo got accepted into his dream university, and told us a few months ago under no certain terms would he dream of delaying going.

So when he said “I could go with you and Benjamin in the gap year” I panicked. (Benny’s my best mate btw, he’s obsessed with the Harry Potter dudes and has been complaining non stop about not having the time to enter your conan fest? Which is true he’s super busy- but he’s excited to read the fics i think cause he’s loves conan gray. Ngl I know nothing abt the Harry Potter fandom, hope that’s chill. He’s how I found this blog actually- and you’re really kind to take the time to read about how i’ve ruined my life). 

Back to the plot. Leo said what he said and I freaked, I didn’t want him coming with us and then resenting me later for him missing uni. 

I told him that’d interfere with me and Benny’s plans to hook up with a bunch of people. 

He got really quiet and sounded really sad as he said he had to go. 

We didn’t have plans to hook up with people. I panicked and lied…

Oh and gets worse. Word got back to Benny’s girl (they’re not technically dating yet but they are) who’s going to a dif country after the summer for skl, and so we were gonna delay our trip where she is so Benny and her could hang.

But she heard what I told Leo abt hooking up and was mad. So I had to do some damage control.

I met up with her and told her only I was hooking up with people, I just didn’t want to hurt Leo’s feelings any more than I had.

She accepted that and her and Benny are chill but word got back to Leo and now he hates me. 

He thinks I lied and I wanted to spend the whole time hooking up with people and he’s never meant anything to me and I don’t care about people. 

If we’re being honest, I wasn’t going to hook up anyone on this trip. I hate hooking you with people. 

Benny said he thinks i’m on the ace spectrum (demi something he said, like the singer idk?) 

It was chill with my first gf, but my ex bf pressured me into it since i’d “already lost my virginity so what?” and then I hooked up with like one other person before deciding it wasn’t really for me.

But I had a rep by then somehow and everyone thought I was some play boy. 

I figured my mates knew that wasn’t true but turns out they all believed the rumours too. 

Point is, Leo thinks he’s “just another on of my hookups” when the most we’ve ever done is make out and I felt more then than anything else i’ve ever done. 

This is stupid. I shouldn’t bother you with my dumb problems. Sorry.

I know I ought to apologise and come clean and stuff but, maybe it’s better if I just leave the friendship fucked up, that way he won’t sacrifice anything for me and I can fuck around the world being cultural and shit. He can do better anyway. 

Hi!

Alright, you need to communicate with him!

You can't lie to make someone else's decisions for them! That's not cool! Look at where it's gotten you!

Please, sit Leo down and tell him everything- including that you don't want him to give up Uni for you. But remember that's his decision. If you like him and maybe want to be in a relationship with him, you need to respect his wants and needs, don't decide for him. Talk together about what's best <3

You're not a bad person, I know you were trying to help him. But the best thing to do is talk about it.

Tell Benny I say hi, and he should come try the fest!

[fanfictilltheend]

Long Time No See (Negan Smith/You *OC of @ravenrose18 *)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi this is my first request ever so be kind lol. This is @ravenrose18 's OC and I hope I did them justice!

Warnings: cursing

Summary: Y/N is Negan's best friend from pre-apocalypse but they got separated at the start of it. When Negan gets let out of prison and goes back to The Sanctuary they find each other again.

It’s nearly sundown, but you finally made it to that place that you’d only heard whispers of: The Sanctuary. Or what was left of it. You’d traveled across the country on a string of rumors and terrifying myths until you had found where a man named Negan was supposed to rule. 

But it was abandoned now, red rust and decay covering the building. You were too late. You look at the decimated makeshift town that used to exist and wonder if that means Negan is dead and gone now too. You pray he’s not. 

You explore the factory floor, hoping for some clue to appear to lead a path back to your best friend, but everything you see is withering away or gone. You could sob with disappointment.

“FUCK!” A loud voice yells distantly, “You stupid motherfucking carcass piece of shit!”

Is that?

There’s no way.

Squelch.

It sounds like someone is killing a walker with a long, blunt instrument in the courtyard.

“Yeah, fuck you!” The voice yells. 

“Negan?” you try, rounding the corner to where the voice is coming from. 

“Who the fuck is there?” The voice asks.

And then you see him: there’s Negan. He’s older, yes, his hair is shorter, sure, and he’s not holding the famed baseball bat he’s supposed to carry, but instead a bloody lead pipe. He’s got on a grey shirt and a leather jacket and the most confused expression you’ve ever seen him carry. A dead walker lies at his feet. 

“Y/N?” he whispers, looking totally shocked. “Nah, this ain’t real. It can’t be. I have motherfucking lost it. Motherfucking hallucinations and all!”

“No, Negan, it’s real. It’s me,” you say, tears in your eyes. “I thought you were dead. Your house back home was burnt to the ground! But then I heard you were the leader here and I came, but–”

“Key word: was, princess. I’m a goddamn nobody now. Everything has gone to shit here. I was captured by a stronger group. I’m not even supposed to be out here right now. And then you just show up out of the blue. I really must be losing it!”

“What do I have to do to prove I’m real?” you shout. “Do I have to show you the goddamn tattoos we got together? Way back when?”

He smiles.

“Okay, maybe you are real. Can I hug you?” He asks.

“Of course,” you tell him and he closes the gap between you two and you melt into each other’s arms.

“What about Lucille?” you ask, thinking you know the answer.

“Cancer got her,” he says very sadly, pulling away. You almost feel sorry for bringing it up. 

“I’m so sorry, Negan. She was a great woman.”

“Goddamn right she was. Hey, you still got that necklace I gave you!” He smiles, reaching for the pendant.

“Duh, of course,” you tell him, holding up the rose-shaped piece. “It helped me keep going through all of this bullshit.”

Negan looks like that makes him happy.

“I knew you were still around and kicking,” he impresses. “I knew that despite everything you’ve been through, you’d still be around. What happened to your parents?”

You look down at the ground as the past begins to whirl around inside you.

“I killed them.”

“Good riddance.” Negan sneers. “Those abusive pieces of shit! I woulda done it myself if I had the chance.” 

You smile a little.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say. “This place isn’t what it once was, I can tell. The stories I heard about you, Negan. Some I hope are true and others I’m not sure I want to know.”

“I’ve done a lot of shit since this whole end-of-the-world business started,” Negan tells you gravely. “I regret a lot of it. I was fucked up by grief and my own ego. But I’m a better man now. That’s why I have to leave ya.”

“WHAT?” you boom.”We just found each other! What the hell do you think you’re talking about?”

“I’m on a mission, Y/N. I gotta kill some real bad people. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you in the process of it. I can show you a town where you’ll be safe called Alexandria, but then we have to part ways.”

“And you could die? On this mission?” 

He doesn’t answer right away.

“It’s possible,” he nods gravely.

“Then I’m not leaving you,” you say. 

“You, honey, are not going to be easy to persuade, I can tell,” Negan smirks. “But maybe if I do some better explaining, you’ll see why I have to do this shit alone. Still got that motorcycle I gave ya?” “Yeah, duh,” you nod, sure that nothing Negan can say will get you to leave him again. 

“Let’s set up camp somewhere much less depressing than here,” Negan proposes. “And you can tell me about all the badass things I’m sure you’ve done since the world turned to shit!”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

A/n: thanks for reading! Check out my other work below. LMK if you have a request or prompt for me!

Masterlist

[ghostofaboy]

Rock Bottom - Poorly Worded

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

Two weeks after telling Benny about what Gavin had him doing, Frankie gets a chance to catch up with Tyler.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 1714 Chapter: 22/?

Warnings: mentions of past drug use, mentions of past forced prostitution, talk of sex work

Note: This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 21 / Part 1 / Masterpost

Two weeks. Two excruciatingly long weeks since Frankie had sat with Benny and told him about Gavin pimping him out. Two weeks since Benny had looked at him with such pity that Frankie had emptied his stomach into the trash can in Benny’s kitchen before apologetically leaving. Two weeks since he’d last spoke to his former squad mate.

To try and distract himself, Frankie had thrown himself into his work. Malcolm still had no work at the shop, so instead Frankie had found himself working more at Tilly’s. Tilly was out of the country, so it had just been him with Henry, one of Tilly’s men, occasionally dropping by. Henry was nice enough and had even dropped off a coffee machine for Frankie to use in the garage.

Other than work, Frankie had been texting with Tyler. Tyler had been away filming some videos with a friend in Los Angeles. Frankie had been both hurt and relieved to hear Tyler had been working away. Hurt that Tyler hadn’t told him, but relieved that he hadn’t been deliberately ignoring Frankie. As soon as he’d returned, Tyler had text Frankie an apology for being out of contact, explaining that his phone had been damaged during the flight out to California and how much he’d missed Frankie.

Tonight was going to be the first time seeing Tyler in a long time, and Frankie wanted everything to be perfect. With so much free time on his hands, Frankie had spent the day cleaning his apartment from top to bottom. By the time he was finished, the apartment was practically sparkling, and Frankie was sure the place hadn’t been this tidy since he’d first moved in. Everything and every room was clean, bedsheets changed and Frankie had even cooked. He wasn’t the best chef, but what he could make he made damn well. With food ready in the oven, Frankie was just wiping down the counter when he heard a knock at his door.

Anxiously straightening his t-shirt and smoothing his hair as he made his way to the door, Frankie let out a few calming breaths. Opening it, Frankie’s heart leapt as he was greeted by Tyler’s handsome, smiling face.

“Hey you.” Tyler wrapped his arms around Frankie, pulling him into a tight hug. “Fucking missed you.”

“I missed you so much.” Frankie mumbled into Tyler’s neck, breathing in the younger man’s scent.

“Come on.” Tyler pulled back, still smiling. “Let’s take this inside. Your neighbors will talk.”

Laughing, Frankie stepped aside for Tyler before following him inside. Tyler let out a whistle looking around nodding.

“Wow babe.” Tyler chuckled, grabbing Frankie and pulling him into another embrace. “Look at this place. Very tidy. You’ve been busy.”

“Wanted everything to be nice for you.” Frankie murmured into Tyler’s lips. Tyler sighed happily, parting his lips to allow Frankie entrance. 

Frankie let his eye flutter shut as he eased his tongue against Tyler’s. He could feel Tyler pressing himself against Frankie, as their hands began to wander over the other’s body. The world melted away until there was only him and Tyler standing in his sitting room, devouring each other. After what felt like an eternity and a split second simultaneously, Frankie broke the kiss, gasping for air.

“I missed this.” Tyler nuzzled his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses up to behind his ear. “I’m sorry I’ve been so weird. There’s no excuse.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Frankie pulled back to look Tyler in the eyes. “It can’t be easy knowing what Tilly wants me for.”

“Dude, I fuck people for a living.” Tyler shook his head. “I just flew to L.A. to fuck two guys. I have no right to get pissy with you.”

“Not gonna lie and say that doesn’t make me jealous. Maybe we should just not talk about our jobs.” Frankie shrugged, but Tyler continued to shake his head.

“No.” Tyler pulled Frankie over to the sofa, wrapping him up in a tight hug once they were both seated. “Look, while I was staying with my buddy, I told him what was up. Not everything but the gist. He set me straight.” Tyler let out a laugh. “Told me I was being a shitty boyfriend. So from now on I want you to know you can talk to me about anything.”

Frankie could feel his cheeks heating up and his cock twitch as Tyler said the word boyfriend. They’d never put a name to this thing they had, but hearing Tyler say it now made Frankie feel seventeen again.

“Have you gone all quiet cos I said boyfriend?” Tyler chuckled in his ear, snapping Frankie out of his thoughts. 

“Yes.” Frankie nodded, ducking his head down into the crook of Tyler’s neck, giggling. “Never had a boyfriend before.”

“And your first one is scandalously young?” Tyler let out an exaggerated fake gasp. “Frank Morales. What will people say?”

“Francisco.” Frankie kissed Tyler’s cheek. “My first name is Francisco, but people call me Frankie, or Frank, or Fish. Well, Catfish.”

“Francisco. I like it. Oh yeah!” Tyler sat up straight, untangling himself from Frankie. “You never did tell me why that’s your nickname.”

“How about I tell you while we eat.” Frankie leaned forward, planting another kiss on the tip of Tyler’s nose. “I cooked.”

After their stomachs were full and the sky was dark, Frankie joined Tyler on the sofa again to watch TV. Tyler chatted happily, asking Frankie what he wanted to watch, but it didn’t matter. So long as he could lay on the sofa with Tyler pulled close to his chest, Frankie was happy. As the hours drifted by, Frankie could feel himself starting to doze, lulled by the warmth of Tyler’s body against his own. His eyes felt heavy and he was aware of his head dropping back every few moments as he began to nod off.

Suddenly his phone let out a series of beeps, indicating he had a message, as well as vibrating in his pocket. Both he and Tyler jumped at the unexpected noise, before both laughing softly. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Frankie squinted at the screen as Tyler climbed up off the sofa.

“I think I fell asleep.” The younger man grinned, stretching his arms up over his head, exposing his stomach as his t-shirt rode up slightly. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Frankie frowned at his phone. “No. Fuck.”

Dropping back down onto the sofa, Tyler began rubbing Frankie’s leg. “What’s up? Who is it?”

“My friend Ben.” Frankie sat up, his eyes still fixed on the phone. “I… I told him about the stuff for Gavin.”

“Oh. When?”

“Couple of weeks ago.” Frankie swallowed hard, reading over Benny’s message again. “We’ve not spoken since. He told me he needed time to process it all. He’s just sent me a text saying that he’s sorry for leaving it so long and how sorry he is that that happened to me. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I get that.” Tyler nodded, still rubbing Frankie’s leg. “It’s not the best way to word it, but your friend is upset that he couldn’t do anything to help you out of that situation. That’s how I felt when I found out. How much did you tell him?”

“Not everything.” Frankie shrugged, throwing his phone onto the coffee table. “He already knew I’d been pimped out, and I think he guessed what for. But I didn’t tell him about the videos or Tilly.”

“Why not?”

Frankie let out a harsh laugh. “I’m ashamed. What I’m doing for Tilly… I don’t want people to know. I don’t even like saying it out loud. But this is my job now. My full time job soon. I finish my notice at Malcolm’s next week. Fuck.” Frankie jumped to his feet and started to pace.

“Fuck.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I’m fucking doing, and one of my oldest friends says he’s sorry it happened to me. But all of this… it’s still going on. Plus, I made this mess. I’m not some fucking passive damsel. I let Gavin do those things to me because I wanted drugs. It was my choice. I choose to work for Tilly. I made this.”

“Yeah, working for Tilly isn’t ideal babe.” Tyler stood and pulled Frankie into a gentle hug. “But we’ll figure it out. Right now Tilly is your only income, but you know I can help you with that. But only if you want to do it. I’d never push you into doing vids.”

“I’m not opposed to doing them.” Frankie sighed. “And they would mean money that isn’t coming from Tilly, but they create the same problem I’m worried about with Tilly and the videos Gavin made.”

“That someone you know will see them?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” Tyler stepped back to look Frankie in the face. “I don’t know what to do about Tilly and Gav’s vids. Yet. But any you did with me would be behind a paywall on specific sites. Someone would have to go looking for them.”

“I know.” Frankie let out a long sigh, dropping back down to slump on the sofa. “I’m just scared, I guess. That all this will be used against me if I try to get my daughter back.”

“I don’t have the answers babe, I’m sorry.” Tyler stood up, offering his hands to pull Frankie back to his feet. “All we can try to do is make a plan to deal with it if it happens. Look, let’s get some sleep. It’s late, we’re both tired. In the morning things might feel less… I dunno…”

“Less shit?” Frankie laughed mirthlessly as he followed Tyler into the bedroom. “You’re right. I thought it would be the end of the world if Ben found out about Gavin, but it wasn’t. It doesn’t feel fucking good, but he still wants to know me, so that’s something.”

“Exactly.” Tyler began pulling off his clothes before climbing into bed. “We’ll figure it out. Now come here.” Tyler opened his arms wide and Frankie crawled into bed and into Tyler’s warm embrace. Perhaps his young boyfriend was right, perhaps everything would feel better in the morning.

[showfallmediacameracrew]

[This post was made using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech. If you believe there's been an error and would like to end Showfall Media Text-To-Speech, please say 'End transcript'. ]

[ Input registered: Ambient background noise. People laughing and chattering indistinctly, the clinking of glassware, tapping of cutlery, and faint country music. Closer to the mic is the squeaky sound of someone shifting around on a cushioned booth. ]

J: "Don’t sit on my tail, you can touch it if you want, but I swear to fuck don't sit on my tail."

M: “I’m not touching your tail!”

[ Input registered: More uncomfortable scooting. ]

M: “I forgot how much I hated these stupid booth seats. Why do they even sound like that?”

J: "Hell if I know, it's the first time I’ve sat in one. I guess it’s better than most seats, since I can just put my tail on whatever side you're not on, but it feels like it's way more full of air than it looks. Unfortunate."

M: “I know some seats at Showfall that are better than these. Christ. I hate that I even said that.” 

[ Input registered: Jasprix laughing, quiet metal clinking sounds closeby as something taps on the wood of the table ]

J: “It smells better though then most of the food the food person makes. Probably will taste better than anything the food court would have had. Did the person asking for our orders look confused to you when we asked for the options we chose, or is that a normal look servers have when they don’t wear masks?”

M: “I have no idea. I was too busy looking at everything that sounded good. Fuck, I haven’t had a steak in years.”

J: “Well, I guess you’re having multiple different steaks, and whatever that other stuff you ordered was. I can smell all the different cooked meats in here, it’s amazing, though I do sometimes wish I could eat pancakes again. Steak, though, is still the best of the food types, hmmm.”

M: “I could actually cry right now. A whole fucking filet. All I’ve been eating for months is fucking packaged foods and those shitty little nutrient things. I just remembered I ordered salmon, oh my god.”

[ Nonverbal input registered: Abrupt cough. ]

M: “Er, sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve had… well, actual food. It’s getting to me a bit. Fuck.”

J: “I was worried you were about to apologize because you thought I was a fish. It’s fine, what sort of wonderful boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil you on whatever you desired for dinner? Especially when I can only agree that those leave much to be desired. Hopefully they won’t mind us bringing some back with us, as I don't see how they could possibly expect us to eat it all at once.”

M: “Mmm, leftovers.”

[ Nonverbal input registered: A quiet chuckle, then a curious noise of interest]

J: “Oh, I believe I spy my house host at the door. Did she take her own advice on dinner places?”

M: “Hm?”

J: “She’s headed for the counter for some reason. Hmm, well, if it comes up, she believes my name is Jasper.”

[ Nonverbal input registered: Scoff. ]

M: “Jasper? Why Jasper? You made yourself sound normal.”

[ Nonverbal input detected: shifting of styrofoam containers in plastic, and footsteps approaching getting louder. ]

R: “HEY! Uh- whoops, sorry- hey!”

J: “Hello Ruth, fancy seeing you here. What are you doing?”

R: “Picking up food for me ‘n Chase, uh. I was going to drag him inside with me but he decided at the last second he ‘couldn’t do it’, so. Pick-up. Also…? Oh, is this-?

[ Nonverbal input detected: Quiet metal clinking and quick shifting of fabric ]

J: “My wonderful human boyfriend, yes. Thank you so much for the suggestion to come here. We’re just waiting on our orders.”

M: “Yeah, we are, um… Hi. I’m Marvin. Nice to meet you. You’re… Ruth, correct?”

R: “You told them about-? Oh, well. You did kind of. Sleep in my bathtub. So I guess it would make sense you- Right. Yes. Hi. Ruth Shirbon, Lostfield Reporter. Uhm. Nice… bowtie…?”

J: “It does make him look yummy doesn’t it? Good thing the food here smells so good, or it’d be tempting, he has that effect sometimes.”

M: “We’re in public, man. Shuttup.”

[ Nonverbal input detected: Tail thumping against booth seat as Jasprix snickers. ]

R: “Uhm. Right. The, uh, whole. Cannibalism thing. That’s…! Anyways! Uh. So what’s that like, uh. Dating a demon? Who is also the demon king? Also how did that… happen?? Exactly???”

J: “He flirted with me, so I agreed to his offer of courtship. It was quite fun to participate in the manner he did it in, as well.”

[Nonverbal input detected: Hastily cleared throat and gasp of air before an alteration of pitch to something lower and quicker.] 

M: “Ilostgaychicken.” 

J: “He also loves chicken a great deal, and he was able to order some on the menu here.”

R: “Oh. Uh. Not… entirely sure how that’s relev… doesn’t matter. I’ll leave you guys to your date. It was nice meeting you, Marvin.”

M: “Oh, um, nice meeting you t-”

[Altered Pitch Registered: slightly more hushed tone, but closer to the recording device]

R: “And if you ever see anything strange around Lostfield, you can contact me… uh… crap, did I leave those cards at home?? Did I spend all that time laminating those and forget to fucking- arghhh. Nevermind. Jasper can tell you where I am if you need me. Anyways, uh. Nice seeing you! Bye!

[ Nonverbal input detected: Footsteps rapidly growing quieter, and the opening and closing of a door as Jasprix snickered. ]

J: “I hope you can see why I told her the name Jasper now. I told her the backstory of my character from when I was an actor. The demon king on a date with his human boyfriend.”

M: “That was… interesting, to say the least. Huh. Odd kid. Not in a bad way, just… Odd.”

J: “I might just invite her on a tour of the mall at some point. I think she’d love to see it, and everything that she theorized being wrong.”

M: “Are you trying to get her masked? Absolutely not. No.”

J: “I mean, alright. But the way she was talking about it the day before, I’m pretty sure they’re going to try something on her own. She stands outside the mall every day, darling, they haven’t been killed yet. She’d probably somehow manage to avoid everything and still believe that demons exist and the robots are somehow aliens.” 

[Nonverbal input detected: Fabric shifting amongst metal clinking together, Jasprix sighing as a hand returned to tapping on the wood.]

J: “Apologies if my doing that hurt your arm, I may have forgotten putting my hand around your back to pull you closer wasn’t possible currently. I did my best to not push when I realized, but I apologize if you didn't appreciate my hand pressed to your back with your own hand.”

[ Nonverbal input registered: Quiet chuckle. ]

M: “‘S fine. Don’t worry about it.”

J: “Hmm. Well, I hope whatever she got here for... Chase is an improvement from the constant yogurt she was feeding him before.”

M: “Fucking yogurt? All day? Gees.”

J: “I think he’s very confused, but oddly committed, to playing an idiot demon. He truly got her to believe that demons didn't eat actual food. It’s a mystery how she can believe literally anything either of us have told her.”

M: “Wow. That’s kind of impressive. In a sad way.”

J: “But an impressively active imagination. They could be a writer if they wanted instead of a reporter. Maybe direct something.”

M: “Something outside of Showfall. Very, very far away from Showfall.”

[ Nonverbal input detected: Surprised laugh. ]

J: “Sure, I’ll refrain from mentioning her abilities to anyone important, just for you Honey Bird. Oh look, people carrying fold out tray things. Maybe those are for us and mean our food is done?”

M: “I see my steak.” 

J: “All the food you ordered and you notice the steak first. Goodness, are you sure you’re not also a carnivore, perhaps you’ve been crossed slightly with an eagle and never noticed?”

M: “If I was I’m very sure I would have noticed if feathers started to sprout out of my ass.”

J: “True enough, I did notice the tail rather quickly myself. You should know, when we’re finished, and have the rest of the food secured, we might have to leave quickly.”

[ Altered Pitch Registered: Low whisper just barely caught by mic. ]

J: “The concept of Dine and Dash is something I’ve heard of and wanted to do, and we do not have money.”

M: “Oh shit, we don’t.”

[ Transcript has been manually ended. Thank you for using Showfall Media Text-To-Speech! Posting... ]

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

---

Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place. 

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?” 

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?” 

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!” 

“Yay, you’re back!” 

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?” 

“Oh— no, our parents left.” 

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!” 

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains. 

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other? 

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t. 

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.” 

“So what? It’s the truth.” 

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start. 

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no. 

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room. 

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway. 

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again. 

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.” 

“Huh? Nice in what way?” 

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.” 

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.” 

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?” 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour. 

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate. 

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever. 

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening. 

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour. 

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness. 

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body. 

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.” 

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home. 

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.” 

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?” 

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore. 

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.” 

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long. 

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away. 

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight. 

Oh. 

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees. 

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches. 

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark. 

Cursed energy. 

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing. 

Oh no. 

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same  voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified. 

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others. 

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason. 

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into? 

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end. 

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil. 

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of. 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So… don’t  give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue. 

She did say you’d be good at it. 

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to. 

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father. 

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing. 

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that. 

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help. 

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store. 

Your lungs are burning. 

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of. 

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her. 

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before. 

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy. 

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that. 

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely. 

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so. 

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class. 

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to. 

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others. 

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully. 

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body. 

“A-are you okay?” she asks. 

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?” 

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?” 

“…no.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?” 

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.” 

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?” 

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it. 

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up. 

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.” 

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday. 

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone. 

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it. 

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role. 

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself. 

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people. 

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!” 

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!” 

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!” 

“Me too!” 

You step back and pull away. 

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder.  “…it’s nice to see you again.” 

“…nice to see you again, too.” 

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?” 

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something. 

“It’s been okay,” he answers. 

“…it’s the same for me.” 

“That’s good to know.” 

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days. 

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago. 

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left. 

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air. 

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.” 

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.” 

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?” 

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…” 

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever. 

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.  

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all. 

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep. 

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep. 

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this. 

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to. 

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer. 

Clang–! 

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage. 

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven. 

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide. 

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense. 

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door. 

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back. 

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking. 

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?” 

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.” 

“No, don’t worry about that.” 

“Why’re you still awake?” 

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…” 

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.” 

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.” 

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.” 

“Sure.” 

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much. 

“So how’s life?” you start. 

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—” 

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?” 

“...okay.” 

You hold your hand out. 

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…” 

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it. 

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway. 

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too. 

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.” 

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.” 

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“Sorry if I made you worry.” 

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.” 

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?” 

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?” 

“I think it’s pointless to save others.” 

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago. 

You don’t press it any further. 

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.” 

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.” 

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?” 

29-12-2016 

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas. 

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too. 

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!” 

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.” 

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.” 

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.  

You take your phone, texting her. 

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy??? 

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night? 

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details 

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers. 

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno. 

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag. 

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.” 

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—” 

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him. 

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.” 

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you. 

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.” 

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.” 

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones. 

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden. 

“Okay.” 

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says. 

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend. 

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.” 

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.” 

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.” 

He looks back at you. 

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”  

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of. 

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?” 

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.” 

“There are actually two.” 

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited. 

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head. 

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.” 

“...it’s nothing.” 

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say. 

15-4-2017 

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have. 

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo. 

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again. 

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy. 

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?” 

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums. 

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.” 

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…” 

“Anyway, where ya from?” 

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.” 

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?” 

“Uh. Kind of?” 

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk. 

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.” 

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.” 

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!” 

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.” 

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!” 

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!” 

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day. 

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law. 

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend. 

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be. 

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting. 

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people. 

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!” 

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what. 

“Sure.” 

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that. 

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe. 

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January. 

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them. 

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!” 

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together. 

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks. 

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…” 

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.” 

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.” 

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head. 

“Thanks.” 

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall. 

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?” 

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before. 

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.” 

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway. 

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.” 

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new. 

“…and…there.” 

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.” 

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.” 

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?” 

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.” 

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?” 

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?” 

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.” 

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines. 

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him. 

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?” 

“In my school?” he goes. 

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.” 

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.” 

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.” 

“You sound like Tsumiki.” 

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.” 

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.” 

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.” 

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!” 

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!” 

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.” 

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs. 

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet. 

The next few hours move painfully quietly. 

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.” 

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?” 

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face. 

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.” 

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.” 

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter. 

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does. 

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you. 

“…I will.” 

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact. 

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you. 

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t. 

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life. 

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[montysstuffs]

🍒 Cherry Pie Oneshot🍒

Server!FemReader x Dbf!Frank castle

AN: Okay you guys, it’s the real thing. So i know Frank doesn't have a southern accent, but i HC that Sam does. But Sam, I don't think, is as assertive as Frank. AND they are the same actor. So, in my brain, i think he's got a little southern in him. Also, yes yes. I know I suck at transitions. And I didn’t know how to end bc it. It’s only been proofread by me and corrected by me, but if there’s anything else, please tell me. So here ya gooooooo

Warning: Smoking, thigh riding, oral (m receiving), degrading, breeding kink, blasphemy (kinda?), fluff at the end (lowkey)

Minors DNI

Summary: You're having a bad day at work and Frank stops by on your break.

You were tired. Tired of the constant ridiculing. Tired of needing to put up with rude people. Tired of getting treated like a nobody. Sure, the customers that came through had nothing by good things to say about you. Always singing your praises. But no matter if it’s 6 praises, that 1 rude customer will always overshadow the good ones. You were right at your wits end when your manager said to just go on a break. It seemed like a weight was lifted off your shoulders as you clocked out.

As you were leaving, you eyed the irate customer. They were smiling and giggling with your manager like they really hadn’t just berated you not only 5 minutes ago.

“Bullshit,” you mutter under your breath as you push open the double doors. Hoping to get a breath of fresh air, you are instead greeted with a chest like a solid wall.

“Heeey sorry princess. Didn’t mean to run into ya,” Frank flashes a sweet smile through his full beard. “Oh, it’s fine, Frankie. I was just leaving,” you couldn’t hide the tears that began to well up in the corners of your eyes. You brush past him in a swift blur. Trying to avoid any and all confrontation. Frank isn’t gonna give up that easily. “Woah woah woah. Slow ya roll, kid,” he follows not too far behind into the parking lot. “Just leave me alone Frank. I wanna leave,”

“We’ll where ya gonna go? You gonna walk back to your house?” You look past his shoulder, into the hustle and bustle of busy traffic. Sighing in defeat, you make a beeline to his pickup truck, “that’s right. Now maybe you can open your mouth and talk to me.”

You slam the car door behind you in frustration. Frank, closes door soon after. Furrowing his brows, he looks you up and down. “Look at me.” You kept your arms crossed against your chest. Not faltering a bit. His voice became louder with authority, “I said-“ he grabs both of your cheeks in his large paw-like hand and commands your attention, “LOOK. AT. ME.” You obey him, though forced. “Now don’t you go slamming my door like it’s a box Chevy,” his country sayings always did amuse you. But not right now. You looked at him, once again, in defeat. Completely unaware of your own tears that had begun to fall on your way there. Your eyes look tired. Almost as if one more inconvenience could make you break. When you speak, he has to bend a bit to listen to you, “sorry, Frankie.” Such a meek and soft voice. “Hey doll face, come here. I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

You spent the rest of your break telling Frank about the rude guests that you encounter. “Why don’t you just quit, baby? You don’s deserve to get treated like that.” You look down at your crumb and milkshake covered shirt that you were fidgeting with, “I’ve just gotten used to it, I guess.” Frank pulls you into a firm, but warm hug. The low rumbles of his laughing brought a small smile to your face. A little ray of sunshine in a cloudy day. “That’s not a good thing that you’re used to it, baby. But I know you’re resilient.”

This was nice. You stayed there for a few moments longer. Lingering in Frank's warmth. By the time you both had broken the hug, it was time for you to go back into work.

The rest of your shift had gone a lot smoother once frank sat in your section. He threw daggers at the aformentioned rude customer every chance he got. Only breaking eye contact when you come back to him with the cherry pie he was supposed to pick up for your dad; sitting down an extra slice of pie with it. Frank was an easy man. Just feed him and he is putty in your hands. He couldnt help but enjoy watching you work. You were the sweetest thing known to man. You were buzzing about in the cutest way. Asking everyone if they needed anything, whether they needed refills, taking orders, etc. When it came to boys your age, it was borderline flirting. Your voice carried through the diner as you giggleed at their stupid jokes and advances. Franks knows that its just an act. You just want your money. But that doesnt make him any less jealous.

You were fluttering here and there. Never staying in one spot for too long. Until it got to his table. You just so happen to always need to bend over to wipe a table. Giving him a teasing look up your skirt. He wanted to see more, but tilting his head would be a little too obvious. He just decidded to be grumpy and eat his pie. He was a messy eater. The cherry filling was covering his fingers in a sickly sweet coating. He smirks to himself, thinking of a way to get back at you twice as hard, but with only one motion. Once you make eye contact, he places his thumb into his mouth. Sucking on the filling as he maintained his hungry stare. You could feel the heat pool into your lower stomach. The arousal setting in with just one motion. It didnt take long for you to close up the store and head out with him.

You were starting up a wildfire behind his half-lidded eyes. You were panting and whimpering at the friction his sweatpants were causing on your swollen and aching clit. He pulls a hit from his joint and blows the warm air into your parted mouth, to which you accepted lovingly. A very obvious wet spot was pooling under you at your desperate attempt to chase an orgasm. It was so close, but so far. The rhythm your hips we’re going at was starting to slow down. “Mmm did I say you could stop, you can do better than that, doll face.” He bounces his knee, his strong thighs now aiding in your efforts to cum. He smiles up at you, your bouncing now reminiscent of you riding a horse, “Almost there, show pony.” He hands you the blunt for you to hit as well. Your brain was already becoming fussy and warm. “Ha ha very funny,” you are taken by surprise when Frank takes the joint away and places the pad of his large thumb against your clit. Making you throw your arms around his neck and breathlessly moan. “Fucking slut. Humping my leg like a bitch in heat,” He touches his forehead to yours as you reach your first orgasm. Wave after wave crashing into you. Frank’s thumb doesn’t stop rubbing in circles until you’re begging him to stop. You are grateful as he gives you time to you ride out your orgasm.

You place open-mouthed kisses along his neck and shoulders. Your gentle and dainty fingers slipping into the waistband of his sweats. “No underwear?” You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin plastered onto your lips. He moans as you take his pulsating cock into your hand, “easy access.” He gives a low groan as you give his cock a light squeeze, “Who’s the slut now?” He hisses in pleasure as your thumb collects the precum, smearing it into the tip of his cock. "On your knees. Right now."

It was like looking into a wet dream. He had whatever divine to thank for giving him such a beautiful woman. “Look at you, taking my dick in your mouth like that. Nasty fucking girl.” Your glossy lips were smeared with his precum. Your red lipstick leaving blotches all over his throbbing cock. The hardwood floors beneath you were biting into your knees, but that wasn’t enough to stop. No, not for Frank. He wanted a proper apology. And that meant giving your all to him without complaints. After all, you’re the one who gave him an attitude. You’re the one who decided to tease him. So now you have to make up for it. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. You were aching to touch him. To feel his warm skin on yours. But you were a good, compliant girl. So malleable for him to shape into his perfect girl. The praises that fell from his lips only spurred your movements more. Taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, you hollow your cheeks. Your large eyes looking up at him. Smeared lipstick and running mascara and all.

“Fuck, Angel. If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum in your mouth. But I’d prefer to do that inside you.”

He smirks down at your widened eyes. “I know that he never mentioned anything like that before, but I think it would be very-,” he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your lips to open your mouth, “-interesting.”

You lead him to his bedroom. A trail you know all too well. He didn't even give you time to get comfortable before he's leaving kisses along your neck. Stopping here and there to leave a small bite, "Don't worry. I wont leave any marks." Though it was a conversation you both had before, a part of you wishes he could. Wishes it were more than just fleeting glances and quick kisses in between barbecues and movie nights. Although it may take him a while to admit it, him staying to comfort you at work showed that he wanted more as well.

His beard tickles your neck as he peppers kisses down your chest; bringing you out of your trance. He made time to discard his own clothing while you were in your thoughts, "Youre dazing off. Something wrong?" He hesitates to sit back down onto the bed. "No! No! Just thinking," you outstretch your arms at the man with the same loving smile that he has wanted to see all day. He settles back onto the bed and into your welcoming arms, "doesnt mean youre off the hook, missy."

You shrug your shoulders at him as you pull him with you to lie down. The pillow is nice and plush as your head hits it. It smelled of his body wash and cologne. Like whiskey and oak. You cup his exposed peck in your hand and smile mischievously. "Gonna make me do things I shouldn’t even be thinking of," his voice was low and husky as you bite into the tender flesh. He groans at the pain. Making his cock twitch and throb in excitement. You stare happily at the love bite you left, right above his heart. "All mine, Frankie?" "All yours, darlin." You force down the urge to call him a liar. He sits up on his knees. You begin to stammer and fumble your words as you see his cock. It wasn’t like you’ve never seen it before, it just always looked so intimidating. He lines his cock up on your belly. Showing you both how deep he’s going to be. As he lifts it off of you, a sticky string of precum stretches between the two of you. The scene being almost too much for him, Frank lines his cock up at your entrance. The tip of his cock almost fighting through the first ring of your tight count.

“Too big for ya, darlin’? Ain’t that a shame,” Frank taunts at you. Knowing well enough that you weren’t one to give up easily. His hand meets your hip without hesitation. His grips the headboard over you. You aren’t at all prepared for the first thrust that he dishes out. It knocks all of the wind out of your body in the best way possible. “Yeah? you like that huh? Those pretty boys at your job make your pussy wet like this?”

“N-no.”

“No, what?”

“Oh god! No, sir!”

“God can’t save you tonight, baby. Should’ve thought about that when you were teasing me earlier.”

You bite into his shoulder. Fighting back the moan that was clawing and scratching to rip through you. “Scream for me. Scream like the depraved little thing you are," Frank sits up slightly. Hiking one of his legs up to stand on the foot. The position forcing you to take everything he gives you. Your scream is heard throughout the house. You see white lightning behind your eyes. Your orgasm caught you by surprise as it was ripped out of you by Frank. A devilish grin is played on his lips, his thrusts becoming more irratic. You move your hip sin tandem with his thrusts. Riding out your orgasm as you rub your clit against his pelvis. "Atta girl. Let daddy use you to cum. I'm almost there." He looks so surreal with his sweat dripping down his face and chest. "Shit, gonna stuff you full," he places his calloused hand on your soft lower belly. His hips now stuttering as he cums. He pushes his cock in as deep as he can into you. Filling you to the brim with his hot seed. He places a kiss on your forehead as he rolls off of you. Leaving only for a moment to get a towel to clean you both up.

You heaved a deep breath as you laid back down, now on his chest. You break your comfortable silence with a realization, "we are so fucked." Frank opens his eyes and quirks his eyebrow, not sure what you are getting at. Then it hit him, "ah, I can get you a plan B if you want." His answer made you shoot up from the position. “If I want?” He shrugs his shoulders and places one of his arms behind his head, “yeah.”

"What does that mean?"

"That i can get you a plan b."

"No no no. you said 'if you want.' meaning you may not want me to take one"

He smiles over at you and rolls his eyes, "i never said that." You we’re finally catching on to him. You put your finger up in an ‘aha’ moment, “but you implied it"

"okay okay maybe. But its totally up to you"

You cross your arms and pout at him,"Frank, you can't even tell my dad youre seeing me”

"I'll go tell him right now"

"bullshit!"

"Okay, maybe not now. Maybe tomorrow. When we both look decent."

"promise?"

"pinky promise,” he outstretched his pinky to you and you take it. Meaning he can never go back on this promise. And he’s sure he doesn’t wanna break the promise.